Meditations of the 5th

[Sepia]

And death is yawning, three more to go, three more left before the world ends or is it a week, what does the end of time mean, where is our Eintstein this time around, where is the scientific superhero seeking data to the end of time or the end of the calender, three pages deep with tits, ass and half a space, all ye who clamour for the apocalypse:

Shut the fuck up and go home, go home to your families and your loved ones, find those that once loved you, find and embrace the light that lives in the hope in your sacred heart, go home and mend relationships, make up to brothers, mothers and wives, do not search the outside for what is inside yourself, you are the apocalypse and time is something more than linear but that time isn't for you, now you go home to find what you left and to figure out why you left it and then you have to re-invent yourself and it's not pleasant but it is a necessity to be able to survive in the conditions we find ourselves in but it is where you will find what you seek and the end of the world is just a distraction

Still not yet, a little while off, soon soon for doom doom, where the most secret of secrets will be hoped for by some few and some will hope for something better but most will not care and their action is right but the motive is off, wrong, erring on the side and people will drink and there will be parties and there will be indie movies about those parties and elvis costello will be in one of them and woody allen will direct another and life will march on and it doesn't necessarily end at rosebud


some people look good on pictures, they say its because theyre photogenic but that is a lie, the older world had it right and those that look good are the soulless beings, their souls are not eaten by the camera, envoy of mother earth who herself attempts expansion, to become a fully sentient planet to


Too many weeks later and the world is still here and I feel sorrow, sorrow for this world and its continuance and sorrow for I feel the King of All-tears for someone must weep for the aeon and it will not be us for we weren't made by gods, we were sperm shot across galaxies landing on a planet that could nurture that big glob of alien sperma, invading and terraforming, let loose the virus, let it loose, let us loose and up into the trees and let there be such a thing as collective memory in a different life because I want to be there, I want to see it and I hope I am right in one way but then again, I'll be ascended or something so I shouldn't care about inanity but someone must weep for the aeon that begun its end that first studio session, that first jam and the age of aquarius came but not it, but something changed like they say jack the ripper changed it, this world, this reality but the empire had already ended while the other was still infant in form but perhaps never in thought?

The world is still here- What are you going to do about it?

Steer us to different places, different shadows, mother, I am not here, we are not, collective we are but we are not memory, from the mesas we watch and we see the future as we saw the past, forever intertwined, there is no possibility of time being linear there is no

My skin is getting wrinkly, I see myself ten years ago watching the same hand while stoned and marvel at it, I see myself ten years ahead and I want my hand to commit murder, I see my death and the skin is almost flaking, old and wet and soft, I am falling into what I was, this baby-like substance merely hoping for something better, solemnly wishing for something better for those who are foolish enough to follow

into time, where light is not emitted


We followed shadows into time, we became what they used to be, what used to be our enemy, it dawned upon us that hate would not get us where we wanted but we forgot, once and we knew we would forget in the future, they told us once, the bright young things that came from education, they told us we should know our history so it wouldn't repeat and we peered upon them, looked them straight into the eye and told them that it wouldn't matter and that made them furious, thinking the way of the world in a different sort of matter, this was suposed to hold an ounce of truth but no such thing was held, who were we that day, that night, that end that shadow, coming succumbed to the end, wishing for it like we all would, why not hope for an end, the next paycheck will clear and it will buy enough for one month until the next fix is in

It wouldn't have been our mention but it came like it was supposed to, like the world was pre-ordained to for us to receive this now and like he said there is nothing more powerful but here we sit, and we are and becoming and a guru sits here and he tells us that what is above is below, that the solemnity of the fallen assassins weigh upon us, like once, one man before us had fallen and the tree falls in the forest while we sit on the mountain and meditate upon it, this is the end for us now, this is the sterling end, the destruction of holy but lo here we are, redeemer- only in name but never in nothing more, our souls, the souls you saved, not mine

We were the gods that peaked, we were the generation that would fly above, be something more/shuddered at starlight, we wanted to become digital and it made sense in this world, separated yet by years, the same sensation/feeling of drowning lingers beyond the years, it is the only anchor left of our humanity/what we carried from planet urf, the feeling that this wasn't for us, it wasn't for anybody but we let it loose and we never thought twice for it wasn't our burden like our our own was not this- but made and something more something more something more, something like going on stage after John Coltrane, believing,,

but not trying, never trying, cruising on belief but the ginger feeling of wanting to execute oneself never subsides, never forget that you will die and you will die alone but don't remember it all the time, don't believe in paulo coelho, believe in kahlil gibran if you must but don't and realize that it doesn't matter, you can change the world, you can become the next leonardo da vinci but in this age, why would you want unless you wanted to be a celebrity? Your ideas would be bought, gobbled up and the world would gain something new to buy, we do not live in an age of wonders

We live in the age of the individual but the individual is afraid, a fear of the world that was built, a fear of doing wrong in a world where doing anything would be right, an age of liars and a spiral pointing downwards, here we are, ending

We fear not the gaze, the eyes that never slumber but always pierce, that always become, shadows twixt doubts we are, dreamers hoping for a nightmare that makes sense, sense is the demon we never wrestled with but always accepted, because it made sense and we feel the presence of god with all ours but not with that, here is no defense but all is laid bare for the world to see, for the world to bear judgment, to become the more, intertwined and interlaced, becoming

Machine made flesh and flesh made machine, machine-flesh, flesh-machine machine flesh flesh machine, mother hear not our cries for we know you have no mercy for you are the mother, you gave us life and now you'll show us how to live and we'll listen, godmother of the high above, god mother mother of god god of mother

When the stars darken, when the old or unborn god reclaims his throne as it his, when the eye will turn upon us and madness or salvation will find us and the son of man is an illusion dwindling for the future is the presence yet more, here we are defining what will be, what is to be the now, future come find your past and it will be you, we will all be you, agent smith at a crossroads but nothing more, no shadows found

a god sits silently in his microcosm, all of time happens simultaneously, we are diverted as we are more, shadows happen as light happens, as fires set out upon the woods or the tundras or the jungles, a god is sitting silently

weeping

William Burroughs is spotted shooting a woman in the head on the 22nd of december, a cardinal is brought to the vatican er claiming to have seen the face of john lennon superimposed over old man ratzinger, Fernand Point is heard speaking backwards in german as he appears at the bar at el bulli, throwing his drinks and screaming merde and assaulting the chefs masturbating of a canister of meringue,  going for akimbo sauce pans, breaking every porcelain or high-carbon knife, showing them technique is nothing compared to hate or love and come morning none will remember, come morning none will remember Gautama Buddha sitting in the morrow light on a soapbox on speaker's corner, speaking and singing at the same time while Freddie Mercury plays the didgeridoo- the light is within us he is heard saying and Thich Quang Duc chants the same while he appears out at a palace in the woods, levitating above the main indoor pool as most of the 1% catch fire, a single devout flame dying in the middle of the dark woods

These are not signs heralding an end

These are signs heralding