My dog has died.
I buried him in the garden
next to a rusted old machine.

Some day I'll join him right there,
but now he's gone with his shaggy coat,
his bad manners and his cold nose,
and I, the materialist, who never believed
in any promised heaven in the sky
for any human being,
I believe in a heaven I'll never enter.
Yes, I believe in a heaven for all dogdom
where my dog waits for my arrival
waving his fan-like tail in friendship.

Ai, I'll not speak of sadness here on earth,
of having lost a companion
who was never servile.
His friendship for me, like that of a porcupine
withholding its authority,
was the friendship of a star, aloof,
with no more intimacy than was called for,
with no exaggerations:
he never climbed all over my clothes
filling me full of his hair or his mange,
he never rubbed up against my knee
like other dogs obsessed with ***.

No, my dog used to gaze at me,
paying me the attention I need,
the attention required
to make a vain person like me understand
that, being a dog, he was wasting time,
but, with those eyes so much purer than mine,
he'd keep on gazing at me
with a look that reserved for me alone
all his sweet and shaggy life,
always near me, never troubling me,
and asking nothing.

Ai, how many times have I envied his tail
as we walked together on the shores of the sea
in the lonely winter of Isla Negra
where the wintering birds filled the sky
and my hairy dog was jumping about
full of the voltage of the sea's movement:
my wandering dog, sniffing away
with his golden tail held high,
face to face with the ocean's spray.

Joyful, joyful, joyful,
as only dogs know how to be happy
with only the autonomy
of their shameless spirit.

There are no good-byes for my dog who has died,
and we don't now and never did lie to each other.

So now he's gone and I buried him,
and that's all there is to it.

It's funny that I can so clearly see
The soul you deny you have,
Shining brightly through
Your ocean eyes
And peeking through corners of your smile.
And the softness in your voice
Has such spiritual undertones.
I cannot believe
You are merely skin and bone.


But What do you see?

If all I am is a rush of dopamine,
I wonder why you put up with me
When so many others could facilitate
the same purpose.

How can you love me and
Say that I am nothing?

Mr. Materialist,
What do you mean?

two Buddies reunite
1. Diamond Rambler-so hard you'll never stop her from rambling
2. Ardent Materialist-so skeptical, he'll argue against himself being "real"

Soon after arrival,
The ritual of showing the other their favorite belonging,
But there was literally nothing.
Both of their favorite thing was "nothing"

I want to be a materialist as much as I could.
I want to kiss the sun and marry the moon!

I want to invite all the stars, sending them a tweet,
and I’d like them all to join me on Facebook!

I want to carry the Himalayas on my shoulder,
and I’d like to swim across the Atlantic water!

I want to wax lyrical over the waves
and would like to fly with the clouds.

I want to be in the green
and would like to spread across the spring.

I want to paint on the sky
keeping my head held high.  

I want to wear the perfect fit ring,
as perfect as the pi-perfect circle,
with no endless nano-decimal hole,
just fine-tuned to my finger hole!

We are all born as winners
But the world turns us to sinners
Just young humble beginners
In a world wrought in hate
A self-destructive fate
Demolishes our will to wait
So we procreate to satiate
The internalized aggression
To the state's possession
Of our life's great potential
Their media too influential
Over our minds it drills deep
Making our inner eye weep
The tears fall and begin to seep
Into our nightmares as we sleep
And see our eternal defeat
We are brought to the feet
Of our fears and anxieties
All wrought from insecurities
Towards superfluous identities
That we praise in a zealous craze
Overtaken by a materialist haze

An abstract of an academic paper written by a doctoral student: "In this semimanifesto, I approach how understandings of quantum physics and cyborgian bodies can (or always already do) ally with feminist anti-oppression practices long in use. The idea of the body (whether biological, social, or of work) is not stagnant, and new materialist feminisms help to recognize how multiple phenomena work together to behave in what can become legible at any given moment as a body. By utilizing the materiality of conceptions about connectivity often thought to be merely theoretical, by taking a critical look at the noncentralized and multiple movements of quantum physics, and by dehierarchizing the necessity of linear bodies through time, it becomes possible to reconfigure structures of value, longevity, and subjectivity in ways explicitly aligned with anti-oppression practices and identity politics. Combining intersectionality and quantum physics can provide for differing perspectives on organizing practices long used by marginalized people, for enabling apparatuses that allow for new possibilities of safer spaces, and for practices of accountability."--an abstract of a paper by doctoral student Whitney Stark

Atomic particles, how can it be so
that your purpose is not just to flow
in and out of existence, building reality--
the stars, cosmic gas and galaxies--
but to “ally” with groups of humans fighting “hierarchies”
and demanding “safe spaces”
(even though their entire race is
at the top of their planet’s food chain).

In this mysterious universe there is no safety,
accountability or identity,
only elements, and energy.
Brief combinations make life
legible for a nanosecond in cosmic time, and doomed to strife.
Biology does not know oppression,
only generation, reproduction,
until our growth chokes us and we fall
like so many of our ancestors, who lived and died
on this blue-green ball.
And one day the sun will explode and blow
even our atoms, which have endured (despite oppression),
and the particles will go far until maybe they sow
new life, in bodies unfamiliar, on planets unknown.

The materialist item creates anger
Is none other than ‘Money’, ogre.
If it is available with us meager
We become a source of hatemonger.
It can make us sit or stand with finger;
It can taste sweeter than sweet sugar;
If in hands, it makes its owner stronger;
So that he can fight with wildest tiger.
You have it, and live even longer;
And will be called even younger.
The materialist item creates anger
Is none other than ‘Money’, ogre.
With it tensions, no doubt, linger
A lot of worry and threats augur,
What use is Salad without vinegar.
More joy of money leads warmonger
Lack of money people did malinger
The mundane things calling it ******.
All those who to receive it eager
Know well that demon in it appear.
The materialist item creates anger
Is none other than ‘Money’, ogre.

each day is new.
each life is measured re-ified or ified,
--- but 1.0 can't think past named things and their uses.
--- 2.0 must have an intuition of good begetting
that includes 1.0 gnosis of aim in an immediate way.

Oh. Here's a map.
Like Disneyland as a mall...
or DC with the alu-mini-um pyramid on top.

A schema instantiation, says the blithering flow
charting our course to
sapins sapiens augmentatious
It's obvious,
the children shall all be 2.0 in 1.0 mechanical material;

the tree of knowledge was all inclusive.
hence, the POV development circuits
are cross sired-wired dialecticalishit

seen innerish, not clearly but
seen, men as trees sorta thing.
not blind
but not visionary in a professional
TED talk worth
attending to after eight straight.

The time on earth is variable.
The cost/value of a duration is perimental,
be
coming here
being still
unborn in silken wombs
--- chirp

there are ground squirrels in California
which chirp
incessant chirp chirp chirp with

enough variety in volume tone and frequency,
to make old Morse Code five-letter code groups
come rattling through the radioman's head.

killit.
no, focus, do some meditatishit mind over world,
silken swaddles to moth or...

squeeking wheel gits the grease.
grease it, no, go to the squirrel and trigger its
cog that has no
cognition save intuition. Click.

look it in the cute little squirrel eye.
see it see you, say to it, shut up.

it don't blink. it don't shut up.
bold rodent,
I AM MAN. I shout, it squeeks,
gnoshit,
no cognitive over ride of intuition to fear the man,
is thinkable.
It is a squirrel.

It don't mean nothin'. A curse o' apophrenia on ye.

Bubbles in bubbles, foaming Being
Thoughts resolve to gearish
imaginations
cogs and gears and wheels whirling through some
filtering of needless data informing points
big
number
dimensional, scale and distance, durational
direct
measure in systems
for value and balance,
with no true vacuum, but the idea,

the null-set. Where never happens and nothing is.

We twist hard here.
The torque is what jects
the ob at the sub, via a
mechanical cam-shaft, pusher-puller-twister system
mit ein trigger, which we
click.
Think.
Who is writing my part in the book of life?
I asked me, you are not here, but
in my mind I hear replies more wise than I was
inclined
to imagine
a common man of common gifts can be for
believing
magic has always been
what magi know how to do for goodness sake.
Magi. Heros.
Not a no knack common man, wombed or un.

Peace nullifes any reason War-corroded minds can
calculate,
the numbers prove it all. Count the stars.
Use your augmented eyes, search your global memory,

run the numbers, nullify time with eternity,
subtract the works of darkness,
(don't delve into the details, you can imagine hell some other time)

----
A Valis idea, stuck between my chew-eschew-awarea
P.K. ****, trips, bags, and scenes
as became the cliche'.

Let 'em imagine any thing, define the terms and force
agreement for access.

Insider wannabe, do you agree, come and see? Or
do you dare to challenge

the common sense of all man kind as represented in Christ
of Nicea and Abeka Books, from Pensacola, Florida,

Whoa, rock the box, make bubbles cavitate the prop,

spinnin wheels like the Bismark's final bow.

--- i'm un comfortable and I don't know why.
--- a feeling
--- those are mocked as meaningless, by apathetic slobs.
--- so easy being a ***, ethos pathos logos, ***
--- comic relief
--- in mortal moments of turmoil and confusion as things are stirred.

All that could be shaken, was shaken.
All that could be strained, was strained.
All that mercurial messages could mean, was meant.

We lie in wait, wishing cogs and cogitate was as symbiotic
a thought as we thought while thinking

earlier
Art is artificial intelligence. Imagine that. A.I.

Demiurge, my cultural osmosis of vocalizings,
left me thinkin' a demi urge
is a little urge, a diminutive urgekin,

urging me to be
creative, let that lil' light shine, Marjoe

these being public displays at the edges of some of the bubbles,

bubs, some kid just shook my bottle

to pretend the wine was moving of itself, making turmoil

careful as in accurate art-iculation, this is not realist materialist
gasping
grasping for
dignity, stalwort, courage, responsibility

we are yet legions, industrial models
used to build swords with motors,
when we come to America, we join the unem.
We, the people's industrial war complex, merge
with the abandonded gods Neil Gaimon pointed out,
formin a loose unity of spirits, engines and factories and artisans

self-defined, an unum from many, on a national scale,

Da deme demotic da-emonic conspiracy of steam, incorporated
with dwarven knackeristics of old,
fur usin' Hermes as a river to call gold to our rule maker,
food bringer, h'laf weard, Lord of the loaf.

Listen,

illiterate heathen, my Grandma said we'd be if we did not know the story
after hearing it told three times.
Third time's the charm.

We were weighing your worth,
got hooked on a breeze from the broom sweeping this
pile of parts and pieces of what you imagined being worth

that's not much more worth than one in eight millions of millions,
of you kind, unless you earned admitance to the inside

externalization of imagination
pro-ject that on next---
stop. Imagine all that
and guess... ob or sub... its your roll.

I'm the door, says the door. I have no key, it says to me,
come and see,

the progress regress con tro tra la la la

That rascal who just wondered by on Youtube

com a part mentalized, an urge to count the cost

ungrateful and thanksgiving
curse and bless
sweet and bitter from one fount, that ought not be, but
it is possible, all things are,
it can be evil, but
on
discovery
such a curse is not worse than miss fitting a taken point,

we ethos pathos logos ourselves, we say, my domain,
bad
poetry can have good ideas in it. Ah, I see.

Humble your self under the mighty hand of that which has been
given the joystick,

eh, what if a lie is running your ranking order?
careful articulation?

Jackson Pollack step up, this carefulness of art,
answer that for me.

Ah, the hero, around whom thy sun wraps, what haps ever after,

you get old and the world changes against your wish.

do you believe in God.
I do, the one Jesus believed in,

by my leave, my letting a true thing be

happily, after a life of seeking for another path.

The earth is round.

Are there ideas that cost, in the use?
Is there an ancient of days account
of idle words

verbs given for acts, as seen done, from an earthling POV
idle verbs that call no act
lest the cost come clear, daemonitic tech that seems magic,
blessing cursing and claiming to heal, all
mere art... the ability to be like Jesus, that knack

there was a wise man, as he was sweeping his way one day,
his daemon, who had the assignment,
reported finding meaning
in being filled
to over flowing, have you boasted that? Never?

Did you ever shed a tear for another's pain?

You know, pathos, commonality of us all, or you know
not
and the sufficiency of evil is calling you to be the inner hero,
making room for truth
in a heart fed lies from the womb.

After all is said and done. Believe the truth makes free
upon the point of knowing the story.

Love is a verb I seldom use. I dared redeem it for future use.
It cost me dear reader.
there are verbs we abuse at a terrible price. Paid. Not by me.

Show's over, Radioman morphed to Grandpa and Oliver
watching the real world turn beneath the sun,
relative to an earthling POV. The day's sufficiency of evil all swept away.

Your belongings (be)long to/for the materialist of Earth.
Your memories belong in the cradle of the hands of time.
Your talents belong in the rucksack of circumstance.
Your friends and family are shadows on the pavement
of the path you travelled.
Your lover belongs in the warmth of your heart.
Your bones belong with the typhoon of dust.
Your soul belongs in God's horcrux.
Your moments.
That's all that's ever yours.
Moments.

I am going to try speaking some reckless words, and I want you to listen to them recklessly.

Burning Man is an invitation to a collective art experience, similar to that of the Jew’s mass revelation at Sinai, to be converted into little children and enter the gates of heaven together.

In Black Rock City, There is no money, no commercialization, only a gift economy of free cooperation, supported by the radical ethos of self-reliance, self-actualization, and radical inclusion.  

One friend, who happened to live the life of a hobo artist, commented that she felt that burners were paying to experience life as a hobo. I understand the experience as a way to live openly without attachment and give freely without attachment, and as the saying goes, the playa provides.

In Black Rock City, There is no us and them, because as one citizen so aptly put it to me as I thanked him for the gift of some unknown chemical, “We’re all ravers here man.” And We we’re and are all raving mad, dancing to the song of the desert, everything everything everything, yet no one died there, no children were harmed.

Socio-Economic status indicators are less apparent at Black Rock City, dress is both shabby and marvelous, as many are in the hippy Mad Max apocalyptic desert tribal grindhouse gear of their choosing, or naked as the day they were born, covered in dust.  

The happiest man I witnessed, sat naked in full lotus, serenely smiling to himself, dreadlocks draped over his shoulders rocking back and forth at a woman’s wedding where she married her self.  He knew the open secret.

This strikes at the heart of the matter, there in the desert, there is an awareness, that every citizen is in an act of participatory art happening in the now, you may wear your body without shame, without scorn or derision, or even a second glance, you may simply be in all your human glory, in whatever mode of conscious, whatever identity or avatar you choose.

Comfort of touch arises in this open, relaxed atmosphere of non-repression, Hugs are standard greeting, and last a deliciously long time compared to our society. Cathartic emotional release arises, encouraged by freedom from social conditioning, laws, and traditional mores. There is a fervent, accepted development of comradeship, the beautiful, sane affection of man for man, latent in all the young fellows, north south east and west.

Rumi’s quote on Zoroastrian’s wheel reads, “Come, come, whoever you are, Wanderer, idolator, worshipper of fire, even though you have broken your vows, a thousand times, Come, and come yet again. Ours is not a caravan of despair.”

In this living environment of artful community empowerment new social standards arise, more equivalent to private desire, as there is increased ****** illumination, new social codes made manifest that rid us of fear of our own nakedness, rejection of our own body.

This stands in stark contrast to the present condition of life for American Person, which is one of deathly public solitude and mass commercialization.
We’ve built a technological Tower of Babel around ourselves, and are literally reaching into heaven to escape the planet. The stupendous machinery surrounding us conditions our thoughts, feelings, and reinforces our mental slavery to the material universe we’ve invested in, the separation and tension this creates can be felt walking down the street avoiding stranger’s eyes.

I say all this tremendous and dominant play of solely materialist bearings upon current life in the US, with the results already seen, accumulating, and reaching far into the future, that they must either be confronted and met by at least an equally subtle force infusion for purposes of spiritualization, for the pure conscience, for genuine esthetics, and for absolute and primal manliness and womanliness – or else our modern civilization, with all its improvements is in vain, and we are on the road to a destiny, to that of the fabled ******.


How can we Americans make our minds change theme? For unless the theme changes-encrustation of the planet with machinery, inorganic metal smog, violent outrage and mass ****** will take place. We witness these horrors already.

Abruptly then, I will make a first proposal: on one level symbolic, but to be taken as literally as possible, it may shock some and delight others – that everybody who hears my voice, directly or indirectly, try the chemical LSD at least once; every man woman and child American in good health over the age of 14, find a kindly teacher or guru guide and assay their consciousness with LSD – that if necessary, we have a mass emotional nervous breakdown in these States once and for all.  

Then I prophecy, we will all have seen some ray of glory or vastness beyond our conditioned social selves, beyond our government, beyond America even, that will unite us into a peaceable community.  I hope this will be understood not as the solution, but a typical and spiritually revolutionary catalyst, where many varieties of spiritual revolution are necessary to transcend specifically the political Hobbesian cold war we are all involved in.

I would invite you to step away from your rational mind
Seek inner space awareness
May the long time sun shine upon you
And all love surround you, and the pure light within you, shine your way on

Leftist poetry *****.
I don't want to behold your innards.
I don't want to be forced to view your organs.
I couldn't care less
about your perverted sexuality
or your identity grievances.
Your biological and socioeconomic reality
is dull beyond all conception.
Your unpunctuated free verse
is insult added to injury
and displays
your hatred of Liberty.
Your merely materialist analyses bore me.
There is no excuse for you.
You abhor all that is RIGHT.
You hate GOD, FAMILY, and GENDER.

You also hate the Lord Jesus Christ.
Therefore you, in your rebellion against Divine Order
are DOOMED and ******

however . . . I will continue
to pray
for your sorry ***☺

As you lie on the creaky hospital cot,
there is a lot that can be thought
by listening to the uneven, rapid wheeze
and by looking at the hitherto unseen pallor
of your otherwise ruddy cheeks......

Many (im)possibilities can be perceived;
that a father I may never be;
that my father may never be
the same with me;
that you may well have entered
the last lap
in your race for that ever elusive
qualifying tag;
that come what may, one day
you shall really be a non-entity
and there may be only me
to see you lying limp and lifeless
just as you now seem to be......

Perceptions may not be real.
The only reality, is a single soul searching query:
Does any materialist passion
or for that matter, a self-effacing spiritualism,
allow anyone to cause the demise of the one
still huddled up in that warm,
allegedly safe darkness of anonymity?

Isn't a human life, howsoever insignificant it be might,
too much a price to pay
for even the rarest gain...
in this provisional little world
of putty clay?

I thought I was in love with him
It's possible I was.
What's not discernible is
Whether I fell
Out of love
Or whether
We've just changed.

Has he always been
Just like this?
Such a fake?
Such a materialist?
Such a conceited being?
Was I blind?

I'm concerned that I wasted a
Year of my time
On someone that was
Already
Too far gone.
Someone who never had intentions
Of improving.

Was I blind?
Or has he gone down drain?
It's gag-inducing
Nauseating
Sickening
To listen to him speak
To watch him walk
His words bear no weight
Every syllable empty and meaningless
His personality is
A literal mask
There is no human within that
Costume.
There is no soul within that
Being.

That being.
That being that caused my
Infatuation.
A whole year.
If I could go back,
I'd learn quicker.
I'd see deeper
Sooner.
So much time wasted.
So many words wasted.

I don't want those 5 nickels
I want my time back.
You wasted my time.
You never had any intention of catching me.
You never had any intention of changing ways.
And now you're even
Worse yet.
Don't tell me that
You're trying.
Your words hold no meaning.
Utter nonsense.
It's all a lie.
You are a lie.

Many times,
You have said vociferously;

......for all success
and in all failure,
faith is the key.

And many times,
I have tried to reason
against the equation
of ritual and religion.

But,
in the fashion world
of materialist-spiritualism,
where majority conforms to modern tradition,
I have often found it convenient
to ignore the dictates of reason
and still more convenient
to believe in the corollary;

......faith is the key.

Therefore,
I have mostly believed,
......in your faith
and in your prayers
......for me.

has anyone in their right state of mind ever cared to notice that Norway has: a) a rather monochromatic demography, b) has a population size worthy of royalty (i.e. small) and c) it never bothered to join the union? no, well of course not, soon the Alliance of Feminist West, i'll just cut my ***** off while i'm at it - internalised vocab correctness and a desperate need to join a club that still fights prostitution without sharing a dinner-date bill, because it's clinging to the code of Chivalry - how soon the multi-cultural experiment crumbled, oh sure, they mention the Communist experiment, but they rarely mention this ******* failure... and what a Colossus it was when it hit the ground and shattered like porcelain with gnashing of the teeth and an Indiana Jones whip of a tongue - no one mentioned the a, b or c of Norway... my grandparents are slightly xenophobic too... i guess your grandparents were more so (comes with old age, but yours see their grandchildren more often)... well... if you want, we can send you Auschwitz brick-by-brick and repatriate it in a Essex countryside if you wanna: as Burroughs noted: guards of the camps had to pet a cat for months, before gauging its eyes out to see if they had the stomach for the position, as ever, the ***** were there, but they were wondering about the stomach - now ain't that a fine fine comedy to consider, ol' Sax.

i don't know why they'd hate the Romanians,
having contacts on a building site
i can reap the benefits of such connections,
just today - two cartons of *Benson & Hedges:
that's 200 cigarettes per carton,
a bargain at 30 quid per carton -
elsewhere, extortion, a packet of Benson & Hedges
sold at a supermarket will fetch £9.66 per packet of 20 -
i got mine for 3 quid a pop -
my ten versus their "legal" 3 - not bad, not bad
at all... it's good to have friends in low places...
and believe me, they don't sell the brand in
Romania... so... well, catch a snooze while
i think of nanny and diapers and whether or
not to smoke them and eventually become an acronym
member of some civil police service minding
people's morals - strange to see the message in
English: smoking kills, smokers die younger -
missing the additional: thank ****!
when's the next train leaving? i have a bunch of
sheep that need a pat on the back re-affirmation
of the unshakeable military-industrial /
materialist-atheistic complex - we need these people
here... they need to be fed life as a placebo
with death the only effective component of their life...
but still, there's me, puffing away like some Thai
child at my Benson... good to know a few Romanians
rather than slandering them as donkeys...
you never know when a gypsy will give you a bargain,
a lucky charm and a palm reading to boot -
and believe me, don't use too much toothpaste,
use less, as told to children according to the Brothers Grimm,
a pea-sized amount, if you use more your teeth will
magically stain from the tobacco, you use less...
magic! teeth aren't stained - i haven't seen a dentist
in about three years... well apart from two wisdom teeth
being pulled out... story bite-sized before the injection
of the anaesthetic -
anaesthetist - so what do you like doing, in your spare time?
me - i like to read books.
anaesthetist - what books would you cite?
me - quo vadis.
if an epitome on a grave or my last words... just those two
would do just fine... quo vadis / where are you going?
and Britain (ahem, soon to be Scuba-diving Scots) left
the proposed resurrection of the Roman Empire, thinking
the grannies and grandpas would rekindle the stories they
heard from their grandparents about the zenith of the Victorian age?
no one is invading anyone, enslaving anyone like that anymore,
what the **** are we going to export this time round
when we don't have the redcoats to export?

To get the attention which I crave,
must a be a materialist slave,
******* out to the highest bidder,
get me a look and I'll never reconsider,
being within this self-centered life,
filled with someone's drama, love and strife,
my friends are the magazines on the stand,
as I judge them on which is more tanned.
I used to have hopes, dreams and aspirations,
I was original and had my own foundations,
but as I aged and my desires grew deep,
I began to follow with the other sheep,
social interaction was overrated,
I just need a like for my addiction to be sated,
for what's the use of a dear old friend,
when I've got a friend request to send.

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It works regardless of whether it never your specific stage ?but yet a lot better when it is. The idea far better allow all by yourself a chance to apply it slowly but surely, like a meditating. Enable all the limited lines drain within slowly and attempt to experience just what it suggests, and making use of the mindr merely sit down with all the illustrations or photos for quite a while and employ the strength of creativity to develop several lively reports about this. (You can find your individual Sabian Symbol by following the link listed below) Acquiring go to a new realizations around the quality with who you really are, there is an additional period it is possible to undertake ?to choose for being distinct. You can impact far more within your scenarios compared to you generally carry out when you have interaction fully while using inward part of your personality, by using to the traits indicated by your current Sabian mark. And if you might be more clear about what you are, then you certainly develop into a lot more a number of in regards to what you need out of living. You may fixed your objectives based on a standard eyesight with the problem, and therefore on its own leads to a much greater prospects for achievements. It may help having target so that you will maintain the focus resolved to the needed consequence. Reading your own Sabian

Mark is a bit like getting a brother to chat seriously of you. They are aware an individual very well,  How to Get iphone 5 out of recovery mode with your darkish pieces as well as your lighting, even though these people accept you, theyl tell you tough truth! It's not easy to hear, however useful for those people who are trying to become improved people. It could be required to reread it a few times plus consider sincerely by what is definitely being said. There is a whole lot we're able to do with us! Possibilities are limitless and also assorted, every single day getting small signs plus teases so that you can push people to more unfolding with possible. Saying No to that and Yes to that particular surely involves us to believe your sensations in addition to surrender towards the inevitable ?this, can come precisely what could, we all possibly be that we're also: anything, very little a lesser amount of. Magick is often a ordinary tyoe of lifestyle that will need particular area and time limits. Iced the minute has cosmic value and it is a required and enough condition from the fine art. Regular routines connected with homebuilding plus serving ourselves are suitable for secure upkeep of the status quo, whilst the finding of one total probable requires that people engage with the non-ordinary. Mother nature best electric power and sweetness displays people pertaining to such concrete realities considering that by way of example, by means of no more esoteric when compared with work day within temperature plus pressure to make **** frost, might travel including the most doubtful materialist within wonderment.

Freezing to help demise truley what is completely inadequate is definitely her method. Filter with these transformative instances enables outdated rounds to supply approach to the latest. The beauty can be secondary, the summary human being sentiment; nevertheless can there be some thing splendorous? Somehow the unconventional irreversibility regarding demise increases our a sense of beauty, in addition to increases the idea to be able to non secular amounts. We now have subsequently to view items together with innovative little brown eyes, eyes readied for new periods as well as the natural move with points of views. In this manner all of us generate your mobile phone industry's over and in obedience with the newly enhanced idea. To make all these marvelous minutes, we've nevertheless to position to one side all of our exclusive issues and turn into tuned in to the nice allows associated with everyday living transformative imperatives.
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Native nations,
Tune in thy television stations,
For thy lands up for the taking!!!!!
Hath thou been mistaking your materialist flaw for gods and goddesses?

For what hath thou missed?
Oh pitiful tyrents...
This land was stained with the migrants you soo call foreign!!!!!

Gun's thou taketh up as thugs with crime obsession,
For didn't thine prophetics mention of thy grave thou shalt go??
No!!!!

No periwinkle  there to flow,
No narcotics to currupt you!!!
No directional staffs to guide you,
For you chaseth the wartorn path!!!!!

Where hell cannot be divided in math nor numbers!!!

Just gnashing of grotesque teeth,
Come on in,
Wash thy feet, the stratosphere shall rip into a billion colors!!!!

None help from thine sister and brother,
For you've turned thy own back!!!!
Just a ditch place with clasps and shackles will become thine new order!!!!!!!

Astigmatism effects many around these Sylvan parts,
Where word's turn to bullets,
False love flies between transpired sparks!!!

Arrogancys lost child mourns mercantile traits,
Wherein fears art nothing but fate ,
Materialist confirmed to promise!!!!!

Whereth art thou mender?
Lover?
Dutchess!!!!!!

Mentality struck down,
Memory foam pounds lit to green bushes!!

Maunder thy jail time feeling's,
Their nights goeth short to cold!!!

Thine melodramas Soo grant I'm watching it all right here!!!

Darling, dear,
So mazed ,
Soo sincere!!!

Mistaketh nothing,
for thy monastery only can play out to thine escort lost end,
Unmonogomous prelude of gratis sphere radiance!!!

Countess of impurities,
Traitor to mall town frivolity!!!!!

Humanity's, large mammal's extinction, racing towards us
from our future, seen on the horizon, dictated by the corp.
structure and it's devolutionary direction, must be stopped.
First, now, you ask how?  If you don't build it, they won't
come, on and off, from a decade before the World Trade Center
was undone, by planes that "they didn't know could fly into
buildings", according to C. Rice, as if they never saw a boy
play, I warned of their doom, in twigs of poetree, etc..  Also,
I told of the terrible two's, bi-polar axi of supposed power,
the republican and totalitarian global conspiracies, dividing
and conquering the world betwixt them, like two sides of the
same materialist coin (un)becoming into one another, racing
towards each other, humanity, life, the Earth, the coin between
them, disappearing as they go, decades before other twigs told
of the bi-headed false-god, mammon, of avarice and molloch,
of war, extreme violence, grinding up the seeds, kids, the
future cannibalized to replicate 'la machine' and it's past
profits, the actual religion behind all masks, fronts, studies,
religions, worldviews, including supposed sciences, atheism,
neither head able to realize their exigent potential without
the other, and how each of the Twin Towers was a temple to a
head, the West, hiding, blindly worshipping, sacrificing all in.

Yet, instead of replacing those twins, temples of doom for
future's broom, "...we(e),..." re-imagined our future, built
the Freedom's Tower, though, we didn't realize that "more
perfect" expression of our nation, where freedom would truly
ring, for it rang true.  Confronting the 'use' of duality and
dichotomy across the multi-media conspiracy to brainwash
people into self-subjugation to the convolution's rule n'er
took place, and with haste the 23 flavors, in this Baskin
'n robbins of supremacy, merx for more through to mercs for
unending unnecessary worldwide war divided, conquered
and cannibalized the country, everyone increasing their piece
of the American tax dollars pie from the purposeful non-
prevention of anything, everything, in perfect harmony.
Thus, when the alt-right-universe invasion successfully
couped, "...we(e),...", weren't de-programmed, awakened
enough to dispel and defeat it outright, so we devolved
into haggling for more, better place in the empire instead.
But, our king-kong sized terrible-two's, Utin's ****'s
apolitical criminal insanity forced us to grow in evolution's
direction, towards unity.  We turned back their invasion, will
we build freedom's re-assertion by "...separating" that false
"god from the State" as our Constitution dictates, will you?

I am charcoal cooking out for the summer
loading boxes into a freight truck
like coals into the furnace
powering America's materialist engine
the boxes rising like greed
until I've filled that truck's needs
exiting the trailer smoldering
like a coal in the furnace
powering corporate production
steam is all that rises as I melt into the ground
trucks leave like emissions into the air
obstructing my vision as I gaze down the street
through the haze of summer streaks
another truck approaches for repeat
a microwave set to reheat.

School is a place to compete, compiting  over who has the most materialist life. Teens no longer go to school with the purpose of learning, their priority is fitting with other insecure teens to create a sense of that craved acceptance.

Hidden, behind all the things you do;
you cherish the mile, the medium, the money,
convenience is a specialty, and status the while.
The perfect personification of capital: a slave;
Property in a picture, capital a drug; the presidents on TV,
and we're all here because of love.

To use love--a materialist notion--getting wet, but not wed.
Going hard, but no rain, ice falls, and summer set.
Collect the dials and never forget that you are dreaming,
when you are stuck in that spiral, just reach out and find me.
Corporeal copulation: congealed cortex conversations,  collide beside me.
We are one self, and no status the while can stop We!

Are you going through a hard time?

Do you feel emptiness and pain
Like me?

It's okay
We are human beings
Here hold my hand

We will not break
We will fight on
We remain unbroken

We are poor
We are tired
We are searching
Searching for meaning
Searching for something

Oh this life
This life
Somebody should have told me
I am learning for myself
Are you seeing like me
Seeing how hard it can be?

I am more
More than just a body
I am not a materialist

We are fighting
We are fighting
We are fighting

I am fighting
I am poor
And as hard as I have studied
As much as I have studied
I still can't find a job

We are fighting
Don't stop fighting
And why do I breath heavy like this?
It must be life that weighs heavy on me

Still Still
I do not want pills
Or Sympathy
Just more hard times
Get up, get up!
We are still here
We are still Fighting
This is earth
We are strong
We will not break
We will not break

I went to college
Then I got a credential
Still no job
Still no job
Almost 30, still no job

These dollars are practically worthless!
Quantitative easing
The Fed
What a miserable institution
Printing more and more
Hyper inflation
Worthless American dollars

Let's be strong
Let's get strong
They cannot break
They will not break the iron will
The iron will
Forged in fires
Of endless hours alone
The emptiness alone alone
There was no one  
No one
Just some hope or something

Something that no one can ****
I am man!!!!!!!
This is earth!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am not a super soldier
My body ages
My weak frail human body
Work out
Again and again
Again and again

Are you poor like me
Do you look for love
But you can't find it?
People can be terrible
Forget them

You are still here
Still here and still fighting
You cannot take that away

Say your name!
I am Matt
Almost 30 earth years
Motherf

Come on!!!!!!!
I'm ready for more pain
More emptiness
I'm ready
I am ready
I will not break

Spinning earth spins round and round
Human bodies go up and down
It's a crazy **** place

I try to do what is right
To be good
I show love to people
Are you like me?

I am earth man
I am earth man
I will not fear
I do not fear

I keep the times
I keep the times
I am the keeper

I heard some scientific materialist
Talk about the future of robots in our society in a podcast

He said human beings are just machines
He laughed at the idea of consciousness

I'm not a machine
A man is not a machine

A man has hopes and dreams
People show empathy and love
People create and inspire
And overcome cancer

Any fool can see
We are not machines

Regardless if you are atheist, agnostic
I don't care
I have respect for you even though I disagree

Don't call me a machine
I am man

Success in Christ is never the same as in the world.
For the world seem you rich in money and material.
While Christ success means that you are truly Loved.
When you are truly loved this is success through Christ.
For when you belong to Christ, he provides for you.
Yes he does have some wealthy people that knows him.
But majority of his people, shall never be rich in money.
For our God is Spiritual not materialist, this is the worlds way.
For Christ says this is not our world, and do not find comfort in it.

To understand alone
is to be a reckless observer,
a sea faring adventurer
on a leaky boat
that floats
across the cosmos.

It is to be a materialist
who claims to be spiritual,
seeing specters
in his reflection
not in the natural world.

It is to be well trained
in the art of
escaping the trappings
of temporary love,
wrapping oneself up in
sweet affections
which you know
can be so easily discarded.

It is driving undirected,
Impulsive,
Obsessive,
the searching
for something
you have never seen
and in the finding
knowing there is
so much more to learn.

It is nihilistic, fatalistic,
franticly selfish
even in the most
unselfish acts.

In the end
it is the loneliest
journey into oblivion.

I listened to the Rasta,
the Monk
and the Buddha
I listen to Christ
and all his Angel's
I listen to the voice
of the Anima,
her glistening beauty

The elemental wisdom of the Natives,
I hear
and those from the past,
settlers,
the sailors
the children

To the teachers,
of materialist
literature

I listen to the music,
the air
and the trees

The gentle whispers of the creek,
and a blaring car alarm

Voices are plenty, and the only truth
is all
all of them, and all as one
some simple reality
behind the veil
of the many