Saturday, August 20, 2016

From Ninjas, With Love


So, the shoe is on the other foot.

I must admit with my newfound wealth comes a newfound sense of worth. One is supposed to have a sense of worth outside of money but how can one be both dead and useful? That's the trump card not even God can defeat (in the end - not now!). Suddenly, I understand the assassins sent after me over the years by Debby. When you have something to protect the whole world changes perspective. Your life becomes devoted to protecting your assets, the beginning of worldly corruption.

Easy to see how one turns into Michael Corleone. It's not about "How much is enough?" It's about giving a direction to your life. It's very seductive! making business your personal life. Corporations poison and destroy lives every day and no one bats an eye. We decry individual murder in feigned outrage only to protect our corporate killing, our dog-eat-dog ways for which we have waged wars to retain. I'm on the inside of that now.

Now that I have something to protect, there's all sorts of avenues of control one can enlist into one's portfolio of power. First, there's just the natural ass-kissing that comes from your everyday asshole who knows you have money to the corporate guard dogs that are the police to our vaunted institutions peddling respectability for a price. I is a pillar of the community now, I is!

And once one gets this way, one wishes to remain this way.

I'm protecting my family!

At this point the question becomes: how far are you willing to go? It doesn't take long to get to murder, a much shorter trip than I thought. I used to think, "She can't really want to kill me. That's only plot devices in movies." But now I see it's more a matter of "Why not?" than "Why?". Why not remove any threats to your way of life? It turns your evil into a holy war. Kiss my fatwa, bitch!

Turnabout is fair play. Debby sends assassins after me, I'll send ninjas after her. After all, I don't want her suddenly popping up in my newly respectable life destroying me with the truth. I'd be forever ruined. Take the bitch out! All those years I spent on the run looking over my shoulder, even being left for dead at one point. Time for you to get a taste of your own medicine and get knocked off your high horse my Christian crucifying friend.

I used to wonder how she could rationalize her killing ways. "My marriage is holy so anything I do to protect it is holy too!" I figured she told herself something like that but then I always still thought that's such an obvious lie no one can be that stupid in real life. But she and people like her are - by the tens of millions - every fucking day. I guess it's just an overwhelming thought to think that's who I live with, I just don't want to face it. Yet now that I get to be a predator instead of the prey I see how easy it is to fall into the killing trap.

Is there one homeless person in this country
we consider respectable? Gotta get the money, honey!

So I get to shatter her world like mine got shattered. Only she can't hide in the streets. Debby is a veal calf in her San Francisco mansion. She couldn't leave there even she if wanted to. Idiot thought becoming a cripple showed her true devotion to her way of life! That's what you do when you get fat, feeling untouchable; queen pig on her throne. Time to gut that pig!

Not that I wouldn't send ninjas anyway with my love of Japan, but San Fran with her Asian connections makes it even more fitting. Plus any excuse to hang around Japantown is fine by me - even though I'll be spending most of my time daydreaming and relishing the hell to come my tormenter's way. I know exactly how it will go!

It starts with that initial connection in your mind of what's occurring as you see the deadly killers approaching, a mixture of dread and confusion. Part of you is actually excited, though, because at last your secrets are known by someone and you feel free. Man, let me tell you, it's a moment you never forget! The sun, the sky, the smells, the noise - it all becomes frozen in time, a simultaneous alpha and omega. You'll be reborn, bitch, right as you watch that shuriken fly towards your forehead.

Is there one CEO in this country who actually is respectable?

Then fear takes over. I will tell my ninjas not to kill her right away. I want the taste of terror and adrenaline and sweat in her mouth first. Good luck entering back into your so-called respectable life after that! She'll never be able to quite convince herself of her lies the way she did before. Trust me, when you realize someone wants you dead, a seed of self-doubt is planted and will continue to grow until you face who you really are. That's the one thing Debby bet her life on never ever happening.

I'm going to enjoy this, taking my time. To see her hallowed phony Christianity funded by ill-gotten gains fade right before her very eyes will be priceless! I want to savor that thought and experience, wallow in it and replay it over and over again like a favorite scene in a movie. She who lives by the dollar dies by the dollar! Hard not to blame her for thinking my janitorial ass would never come into riches but then again every liar is taking a chance.

I love my new role. I love walking around in clothes that were once several months gross wages. Money undeserved is twice as sweet as money earned. I'm finally one of society's sluts - sanctified and blessed! Jesus said to come out of the world and be ye apart. Well, I tried that and it sucks more than words can say. It's an insufferable and unsustainable existence. Time to give the whore of Babylon twice what she handed out, as is mandated in the Good Book.



Wednesday, August 17, 2016

The Last Dream

Sitting on the edge of humanity
Watching the world around me melt;
Questions never asked nor answered
Who dare seeks of what I felt?


Patterns 35

Patterns 1

Patterns 32


Fantasies of Man enslaved
By armies of keyboard queers;
The hell of debated truths
Keeps sheep shivering in fears.


Patterns 8

Patterns 27

Patterns 24


Rolling clouds of destiny
Are revered by the meek;
Magical tech winds clear the sky
As fools praise unholy geek.


Patterns 12

Patterns 7

Patterns 5


Debt of mountainous lies piles high
"We can only delay the date it's due!"
Anarchists proclaim debt must be paid
Pragmatists proclaim fairy tales are true.


Patterns 15

Patterns 16

Patterns 17


Planet poachers short on time
Legalizing all their crime!
Until at last in a midnight scream
Madness drowns the final dream.



Patterns 34

Patterns 9

Gracia

Sunday, August 14, 2016

The Harry Bot

Do I appear normal to you?

Marty, Sam, and Ed were in the squalid apartment living room with its rough wood floors and water stained ceiling. Harry was there too - or was he?

"The Rangers will never win the World Series. They don't have any character."

"Sure they will! They got character in a hotel room in Kentucky. Just you wait and see."

"On paper it's hard to argue with their chances. What do you think, Harry? You keep your nose in the box scores every day."

"Don't know why all you people are worried about Trump. In a few weeks he'll be gone with the wind and all this hysteria will be for naught. Stop hanging your lives on every stupid word he says. It only makes you look more stupid. Sheesh!"

"Whoa! Somebody's not listening."

"I don't think that's it. Look at his eyes. He's got that 'What's the point of anything' look."

"It's like he's reading a script. I know he said almost that exact same thing to me last week."

"What do we do? He's totally disengaged."

"I don't know. Ask him about the weather or something."

"Hey, Harry, what do you think about this high heat lately?"

"I'm a Maserati guy. That's the car that got me in love with cars. Your Ferraris and Aston Martins are fine but they'll never capture my imagination the way the famed Trident has. I'd give anything to own one!"

"Well, shit, we've all heard that before."

"His words are so canned he should run for office!"

"Yeah, robots do well in polls. But what do we ask him next?

"Ask him about the race. See if he repeats his earlier answer. If not, then man, he's really out of it."

"Who do you like better Harry: Trump or Clinton?"

Can I die now?

"I don't care what anyone says: it really is the humidity that makes the heat so bad. I remember visiting Phoenix as a kid and the heat didn't bother me near as much as here in Dallas. It really is a different kind of heat."

"I've heard him tell that tale before too."

"All we're going to get out of him is scripts tonight."

"Weird part is he doesn't even remember when he does this. His mind is someplace else while he's stuck in conversation mode with his relevance sensor off kilter."

"Why the fuck does he do this? It's not real conversation. It just sounds like it, like he's some sort of player piano."

"Oh, I know why he does it. Can't hide everything no matter how hard you try."

"OK, Einstein, what gives?"

"It's simple: he's lost interest."

"Lost interest in talking? Then just don't speak."

"Lost interest in life. Lost interest in himself. He pre-scripts his conversations then plays them back as necessary."

"That's scary. I'd sure hate spending my time doing that!"

"Everybody's got to devote their life to something."

Then there was silence as each person meditated on just what his life was devoted to. The Harry Bot remained incapacitated.



Saturday, August 13, 2016

Hidden Losses


Rita Hayworth. What a stupid name. I can't stand it when someone recognizes it and feel they have to make some sort of smart remark. I also can't stand it when someone doesn't recognize it and I think they're some sort of ignoramus. It's just stupid to name someone like that. My life would have been completely different with a different name.

Or so she said.

Rita had her own looks to brag upon even had she not be named after the bombshell actress and most popular pin-up girl of WWII. And whether she admitted it or not, the idea of having that kind of glamour infected her since her youth. But she was no star. She found no particular talents within herself. She had no way to parlay herself into the limelight. But Rita couldn't resist the voice that told her that her famous name was a choice of destiny. And that gave her false ambition.

Thank God for the internet. If she couldn't have the life of a star she'd at least have the lifestyle of one. Sugardaddies.com proved to be her way through this world - her way being any shortcut she could find. With her ravishing rack, finding a willing partner in crime proved quite easy. Men were quick to lavish her with eager praise that she was better than any movie star, giving way to a worship of shared lies requiring no burden of proof. But as with all things artificial, the clock was ticking.

What am I when I lose my youth and beauty? There's no pension for sugar babies. Damn! I'm fucking screwed, aren't I? Everyone will laugh at me for pretending I'm really somebody for all these years leaving myself no way out. I'll be the washed up hag they point to and mock. Shit. What am I going to do? I hate all those "legitimate" types. I have no respect for them. They do the same things I do they just hide it better. I wish I could just die now before I get old.

But in moving towards giving up her life, she moved towards love. Meeting Robert tore her in two. How much should she tell him of her wayward ways? To have at last something of value! Yet how terrible the price. Life turns on its head with something at risk. Where would life devoted to love lead to? No more control, no more security - even if only short term. Yes, this was the first inkling of hope she'd ever felt - but life was never meant to be good for someone like she; just another illusion to lead her to doom.

Who's wearing a golden mask?

Rita needed love. Rita needed money. She decided to serve both masters. Her latest benefactor was a breed getting more common by the day: an inept CEO. He even bragged of his incompetence and untouchability having made it as part of the CEO club - where members protect one another with golden parachutes taken from money in workers' pockets. This they laugh about even as they try feverishly and adamantly to suppress wages at all costs. Why not steal from a thief, supposed Rita. All she needed to start her moral life was the funding.

Knowing literally where the man kept his gold, Rita began relieving his safe of its burden of hiding 99% pure gold bars. She thought herself immensely clever! The perfect crime: stealing from a crook to finance true love. She mentally derided the fools struggling for an "honest" dollar when no such thing exists. In every capitalist resides a slave trader.

He never declared these to the IRS. All he's got is his goofy greed. But now I've got him! The world is nothing but pimps and prostitutes and I don't want to be either one. This gold is my just reward. I'll be free at last to live my life how I see fit. God, what a feeling! I can almost taste it. It's like oxygen, I feel alive for the first time. I gotta get out, I just gotta!

But like a bad movie where everything goes wrong, the CEO came back unexpectedly to catch her in the act. Had he been a few minutes later, Rita would have gotten away scot free. A few minutes earlier and she would not be so infected with the fever for freedom. But having caught her in the heat of the moment - as is ordained by the fabric of the universe - she grabbed the nearest object she could find and flung it at the outraged CEO's head. Then he was dead.

"I can't stop now."


She took the gold to her lover to live happily ever after. But Robert didn't want to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder. He left her with her gold, the master she'd chosen to serve. Alone, with blood on her hands, Rita went on the run. She imagined a life on the beach where the sun and sand would wash away her sins. But the killing followed her wherever she went. Who was she to be now?

As the years passed she became an actress in the truest sense: acting as if everything were fine. What could she share of herself? She thought she was supposed to be a star, was embarrassed she wasn't, then tried to live like one to cover it all up. What an idiotic existence. How cold the gold proved deep in the night. The crime isolated her even as she acted out her part of living the good life. No one could see her hidden losses - except Rita.

It happened like a dream. She was leaving an island bar at 1 AM, waiting at a stop light. Suddenly, Rita heard a sickening thud as a pickup driving the opposite way was T-boned by a speeding drunk driver. And that T-boned truck was headed straight for her driver side door. Rita stared and watched in fascination.

It's not really going to hit me, is it? I can't run this red light or I'll be even more of an immoral lawbreaker than I already am. Maybe this is God getting back at me. Yes, God wants me dead for what I did. I just want to watch this and see how God feels about me. I'm so tired of guessing! Now I'll find out the truth.

Rita never heard me from the other side of the street yelling out, "Lady! Move!" She just kept staring, her faced bewitched and hypnotized with a curious calmness. As the pickup hit the median it launched the front two wheels into the air landing right on top of Rita. She survived, but just barely. Feeling obligated, I visited her in the hospital. There I got trapped into hearing her life story. The doctor said she would make it "if she's a fighter." But Rita had rendered judgment on herself (it was never God's) and parted from this world having never been herself.

Was it really all because she had a famous name?



Wednesday, August 10, 2016

The Rape Of Ahmed

The white ones are the lawyers, of course.

- Ahmed Mohamed, aka "Clock boy"

If we can't blame ourselves then who can we blame? Whomever is most vulnerable, that's who! It's been like this ever since that snake snuck its way into the garden but that makes it no less egregious. Children are always to the first to feel the pain. In some countries the elderly are revered but here we stomp on you at both the beginning and the end. Nothing personal, just business. (It's been said that the business of America is business.)

Whenever a society goes into its death throes, backlash and finger-pointing skyrocket. Things become undeniably fucked up. Someone's got to take the blame. Not gonna be me! (And damn sure won't be anyone who looks like me, either!) Actually, there's much hilarity in the bitter and self-damning reaction to a 14 year old bringing a homemade clock to school. It is true Ahmed was very threatening in what he did - only the threat wasn't to create a bomb or a hoax. He threatened to reveal our own shortcomings and insecurities and in that did he hit a hot button!
He was bullied for his religion, called Sausage Boy and Bacon Boy because he did not eat pork. When he started middle school, Ahmed joined the robotics club and often brought home-made “gadgets” to school. He often fixed fellow students' and teachers' broken phones.

“On one occasion, when a tutor’s cell phone went dead, Ahmed rigged the battery and brought the cell phone back to life,” the lawsuit states. “On a number of occasions, he would take students’ broken electronics home and bring them back fixed.”
Very damning behavior. We don't want outsiders making us look dumb! There's much geek worship presently in society and to find ourselves beholden to one of them is more than many can take. We must tear him down, demonize him, cast doubt on our self-doubts and yes, claim his very existence is a threat to our existence. We Texans certainly don't lack in the hysterics department despite all our grandstanding to the contrary. Anything considered Muslim scares the holy shit out of us.

What's wrong with this picture?

As adults live in literal mortal terror at having to cede the moral high ground to our children in an inexcusably corrupt and dying world, we seek to break our children to be as we are. Then they will love us! As the "The Hustler" put it: a contract of depravity. We want to stifle free expression, oppose and destroy honesty, and crush the life out of every living thing. Never trust souls who sell themselves short (Hi, Debby!), for they will sell you out in a heartbeat too.
“The reality of it is that it was nice to meet the president and all these great people, but then again during that time I did not have a home,” Ahmed said at the press conference. “I've lost a lot of things and people might not see it because I never really talk about it. But I lost my home, I lost my creativity because before I used to love building things but now I can't. I lost my security. I can't walk out on the streets anymore without being covered up because I don't want to be shot because it happens here..."
The savages and Philistines that dominate society have won. I don't know if the Mohameds will win their lawsuit. And while a victory would be a pleasant interlude it won't signal a shift in human behavior or put an end to self-loathing. They may as well have filed a lawsuit against nature: no one escapes the thorns of the world. That's why Dr. King said a person must find something for which to die in order to live; that's life in an upside down world.

As Jesus said, one must "overcome". We all get dealt a raw hand. Yes, the world does owe us something because it owes something to itself - the world just ain't gonna pay (well, not now anyway). Ahmed will have to mature and realize the need to forfeit his life to stay true to his dreams or he'll end up just another wrecked car on the roadway of life. But the microcosm of what happened to him is also indicative what's happening to us as a (w)hole. Our arts are dying as our hearts are dying. But all we are (still) saying, is give peace (and yourself) a chance.



Saturday, July 30, 2016

Visions Behind The Mask


I saw a million people - maybe more
Crying out for holy war;
Locked in step, locked in jaw
Militant marchers bought the law.

With pounding hate, their temples throb
No living god can stop the mob;
"No cruel peace in our lifetime!
"Choosing love a moral crime!"

Resolved eyes burn jailed desire
Imprisoned by self-tortured ire;
Shred at last, their constitution!
Embracing hell's final solution.

"We've seen the enemy and it is you!
"God approves the evil we do!"
Join the mob or you'll be next
Jesus Christ, the eternal suspect.

Bloody flows the river of fear
Smashing mirrors that bring the tear;
Time has passed for human restraint
Innocent suffer sinner's complaint.


Pillars of hope they wreck and crumble
Only death can end this tumble;
See their signs if you dare to look:
"Now interviewing corporate crooks."

Praiseworthy words hide the crude
Secret perverted interlude;
Evil shows when they are nude
In every whore resides a prude.

Ever tightening shrinks the noose
But useless lies don't get it loose;
Why fail to decry their cursed dying?
Behind shot bullet a secret crying.

Time reveals hell's betrayal
Satan removes the savior's veil;
Forced to face what they already know
Doomed fools have no place to go.

Deceived into doing the devil's work
Unrepentant dies the jerk;
Forsaking heaven's angels above
"Do anything but admit your love."


Sunday, July 24, 2016

Beyond Xebulan: Interview With A Savage


I can see more clearly now: I've been sent here to remind me nothing can exist outside of love. The futility and tragedy of trying do so begets horrors no sentient being should ever witness. I used to know that! The anger of this planet's self-betrayal blinds them into madness and unlivable regret. Unforgivably, they see triumph in their sin, crowing to the heavens of how they've robbed the future for the present. Having no understanding of the time dimension, they do not realize those things are one in the same.

Still, our Maker made them for a reason, value must be somewhere. That makes me curious. As an unsaved planet, I cannot expose my true self upon pain of instant death but their blindness to themselves makes them blind to me as well. In this I do hide. I found a group of ordinary workers. They laugh and bicker as if all were well and clouds of doom are not darkening in the sky. It's both enraging and pitiful at the same time. I have to know more.

I watched on their communication portal a man exposing the frailty of a crumbling bridge. He said, in fact, many many more are just like it. I found that quite shocking but was even more disturbed by the overall non-reaction. Each of these beings has the light of the Maker within so how do they reconcile willful self-endangerment? I went to the bridge in question to ask the aborigine workers of their rationale.

"Greetings and salutations! May I ask you of that bridge behind you?"

"Sure, what of it?

"It seems to be in some disrepair and will at some point present imminent danger to humanoid life."


"You're not from around here, are ya?"

"That would be an accurate statement."

"Then what ya so worried about a damn bridge for?"

"You see, I am curious why it's not repaired in a timely fashion."

"Haha, OK, pal. You wanna fund it you can fix it anytime. Be my guest!"

"That's because of your rule of money."

"Them that gots the money makes the rules, yessiree."

"Yes, what I don't understand is that money is something you simply print on pieces of paper, no? If you need more, then just print more!"

"Man, it don't work like that."

"Why not?"

"It just don't, OK? All sorts of things would happen."

"Like what?"

"Well, none of us exactly knows...Hey, Andrew! You're the smart guy. Get over here. This guy got no understanding of money or economics."

"Yes, Andrew. I hear complaints of money shortages but don't understand the reason for not simply printing more of it if needed."

"Money is a commodity like any other. The more of it there the less it's worth therefore the more you print the more money it takes to equal the same amount of purchasing power. Thus printing more is pointless."

"But that's your choice! It's not a law of nature!"

"But it's a law of economics."

"But money paper only has the value you assign it. It can be anything you want!"

"That's for the markets to decide. It can't be just whatever we wish."

"Yes! Yes, it can! Pretending it's not so doesn't make it any less true. You base your world on a fiction within your own minds."

"It's not a fiction if everyone agrees it's not."

"Agreement of what? Self-enslavement? Disagree and you'll be free. It would be more productive to take all that paper and use it to fuel a fire."

"Hey, pal. Before you go burning your money, hand it over to me first!"

"I'm not speaking individually, but collectively as a society."

"You suggest we go to some sort of barter system? Civilization has progressed way beyond that!"

"Not when you can't fix one broken bridge! And besides, you're already on the barter system, there's no way around it. Everyone trades for what they need every day. This artifice you've created only hinders it, sometimes to the point of death. That's insanity!"

"That's capitalism! The greatest way of life ever invented. It was capitalism that built that bridge in the first place."

The workers grumbled at that statement. "Naw, Andy, our fathers built that bridge. Took half their lives and we're damn proud of it."

"Nothing gets built without funding first!"

"Nothing gets built with funding alone, neither!"


This is a perfect example of there love/hate relationship with their "money" concept. On one hand they see it as their provider and savior while at the same time extremely bristling at the chains it brings to their lives. They are of two minds and the longer they stay that way naturally the more angry and miserable they become. They let this fictional paper run their lives even to the point of murder, I kid you not. What's most deflating is the pride they take in their perceived cleverness! They have made a foundation of their greed for their society (and even marriages!) and in the process sanctified it as the will of the Maker of the universe. A complete and utter anarchy devolving into dystopia. The proof is all around them to see!

I was forced to bring up what they mutually deny in what I can only call a planet-wide conspiracy. "What I fail to see is the responsibility of these decisions. How is allowing hunger responsible? How is poisoning this planet responsible? [I almost said "your planet"!] How can allowing all this unnecessary human misery be deemed responsible?"

"I'll tell you what's not responsible! Depending on people to share - now that's a fairy tale! I don't know where you get your ideas from but that's crazy commie talk you're speaking. We got things figured out pretty good already, thank you very much. So I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your subversive ideas to yourself."

"Says the man who says he "cannot" fix a bridge!"

"Nothing's is perfect. Don't like things here, then move on!"

"Why move when all you need is to make things responsible?"

"Enough of your silly talk. Let me tell you how it really has to be: each man for himself. Each person has to make his own way and no other person can do it for him. It's up to the individual to get what he needs and make his life right. You people expecting the world to make your life right are going to be sorely disappointed! It's all on you! How's that for being responsible??"

"I'm confused. Are you speaking of money - or of love?"

"Love, of course. - I mean - "

And there we had the truth of it.