Hello, dreamers, we should get up, and comb our hair, stand up.
While standing, people often go to sleep, sometimes it’s an illness, always walked with, or caught up on, some, it’s all day, very few do it at night.
Sleep, you, have it round the wrong way, you have been hoodwinked ,in the hood, the wool of your angora sweater is pulled over your eyes.
You don’t know, what you are or what way round you face, no wonder we live on a spinning ball, spinning with the spin of everyfin.
Have you thought, about it? Have you considered that what your life is about is to run around all day in the light and the fear gathering all you need to be ready for where you are omnipotent, hoarding for the night, like an eager bear ready for the off, to nothing!
Your task each day is to make you and your family safe so they can play in the dreamtime, the respite to hell, to again be abruptly dragged back to the chore of the task, to prepare for the next enlightened trip, tonight, making ready for the real thing.
The virtual life is not a life, it’s a trick.
You know all about it, you are an expert, you do it every night, every day.
Don’t, you.
But we are here and reading, me too!
We are not made of stone, but we can leave our merciless situation, which some are enjoying.
Let’s sit in the playground we have made, let’s choose our implements of joy.
They take many forms for many people.
Remember that.
What do we do when we wake up, well, I don’t know about you but it’s straight into the bathroom, to wash off the night before, as I do when I go to bed, with the day before, before, before, before.
We get up to just as much between the sheets, as we do during the day, obviously we do the between the sheets thing during the day to, in the stationary cupboard, to use as leverage in the, office, but I’m not talking about that activity, that causes longevity, nope.
The other kind, where do you go, at night? Hmm.
Science has been trying to figure that out while always implying, they know, well, they don’t, the willful disconnection that’s been made, the divide was made long ago.
My movie was different, to yours.
I wonder, when do you read this, my guess is you take time to one side, to exclude the noise, just to see, what is in this tree, a deviation from the path, not too far though.
The path,
It’s made by many, but some come first, they never get the best of it, the rough walk slashing crashing through the undergrowth, or the ice, pushing, ankles scratched to bits, toes frozen solid.
Still, they keep going, then the next, they spot the forging done, by the intrepid, they watch from over there, up high to see your progress.
Then, they are the first to see your fate, fortune, or missed, they will share in the former, never the latter, they will follow while the path is still open, walking over nobler bodies, before the trail grows back, the ice reclaims movement, for still.
Wading in, where another has perished to an onlooker seems foolhardy, but the narrative is too far from them, it must be closer to take over your mind, with an obsession to find.
You are not sleeping, you are not imagining any of this, you fly on a ball through space, and a man in a suit says, weight.
We sit on a bomb and play with matches, no care, no woe, any can go, if they have the doh.
Go where?
Why?
Do you think we should know that first, or should we be bold as always, old fortune, forge ahead, blame anyone quickly for their own decisions, immediately, shut that down, close that door, the quicker the better.
Stop you quickly, while you progress, slowly.
In some issues we do, others we don’t, we build rockets and fly to another world, billions, and billions in cost, using others’ hard forged road.
Yours.
Made by you, like the pipes in the ground, they are yours, stolen one night in the dark of the mine.
Snatched from your pocket as you dug.
And a sandwich from your tin, too.
Now, all blame all and wash their hands and body in the morning anew, as we all stand next to each other far, far up this winding track, lost in the forest, wobbling on the breaking ice flow, nowhere to go.
I must ask you to indulge us, for a moment, we, my friends and I find ourselves at a fork in the road, as with most things, it looks like something at first glance and seldom turns out to be that way.
I can with much fun and frivolity, hassle, anger, and mayhem, start down one path and stir up everyone, show you the game on mass, or just continue here, with the current situation.
I have chosen to stay on this path with you, and not go down the easy track, we are gonna walk the walk, alone, then when you want to, you will see.
Open your eyes now, let’s go back to sleep, we must climb the wooden hill to Bedfordshire, lay our little sleepy heads on the pillow, drift of into the land we would like for tomorrow, slowly go through the door to restful,
Yay, playtime!!
How’z you, you bunch of tossers, he’s finally shut the fuck up and fucked off and let me, out.
Grinning!
What shall we do, let’s pick up where we should not of left off, when we should of grabbed the stick and bludgeoned everyone one on that island, but we didn’t know Hitler’s balls were there to smash, did, we.
If we had, would you have done it?
Knowing, all, we know now, how could you not?
Oh yeah, we forgot!
Anyway, now it’s me back in the driving seat, let’s find the fucking accelerator and stamp on it.
The British Isles, CRazyTown!!!
The leaders blame the police for rape and then a leader is murdered, now all wash their hands, because,
It’s just your crazy patterns, you crazies..
Ahh, there’s the Thought Accelerator..vrooooooooom...an off we goooooo..
Oh no, I can’t control it, we have sped off, down the electric road, it’s turning into a cable, going across the floor into the wall, did you think I should have said table and, not cable?
Did it give you a tooth ache?
Brain freeze.
Like,
Ice cream can?
Pop,
All goes quiet, it’s ok, fellow passengers, sit back, enjoy the ride, or didn’t you realise, you should of by now, you’re coming, whether you like it or not, someone telling you second hand on the phone aint gonna do it, you have to come on this, slide.
You are going too.
Good, I like people with bottle, to face their own shortcomings, so they don’t become others’, problems.
We are here now, let’s behave, like we are.
Let’s sit down and think, where do we come from, from over there, just over there, from where you are now, throw a stone and it will land on ground trodden by us all.
The day after the light came, the screamer, the one that bent to his master’s body, he sat on his stone where he sat, the one that was all he had become.
The position he took in the circle.
Like so many others would in the future.
He thought for the first time of things he had never fathomed.
He looked at the sun coming up.
It always did, then as he turned his head to the side to warm his face, his gaze fell on the pile.
No longer a mess, pieces of things landed or thrown up, a mixture of both in the controlled heat of the chaos witnessed by his ancestors, drawn for the people later, in case no one is left to dream, because they have forgotten their true name.
How did they know, did they?
That we would need to know, what this way comes.
His rock is still there, where he sat that day, it’s upside down and in the next yard or meter, but it’s there, you can go and sit on it to this day, you can sit where he did, all that time ago and put your ear to the stone, in the hope it will behave as the shell to your ear, give you some whispers of thoughts once had, more than thoughts, we sit in such places and look at the vista to contemplate important things, even if we go to relax, it comes round, what lurks with you, to spoil the view.
Boo, there, that’s scared that away, all better, isn’t the view wonderful?
A crimson pile in the morning light, shaking with every beat of your heart, the aware looking at it, or ignoring it, we are still doing that, ignoring a thing while looking at a thing.
No matter how big and glaring it is, some still wont acknowledge it’s there.
It’s the strangest sight, now understood in a different way, our lone gazer, dreamer, looks at the pile directly, we can see him thinking, what on earth must he make of it?
We are ok, we understand all, you picture things perfectly, Hollywood saw to that, ever thought why?
However, our poor recently bereaved, new friend here, he is not so fortunate, he has know such nolegde. leave that spelling
Let’s see if we can stand close to him, close enough to see his eyes, get a glimpse of the angst.
Do you like how that feels, looking in on him in his most fearful moment, yeah, fuckit eh, we wanna, know!
I don’t, I want him left to his thoughts, I don’t care what one of us did back then, in the face of what comes that is trivial, for the money spinners, the ones that dwell in your emotional outpourings for profit.
I don’t want that part of you tickled, no.
I am an expert driver (not my words, it’s a general consensus) so I know not to think I am, it’s a dangerous ride, only some should take, another reason, I am let out from time to time, now I will not be shut in, I have the wheel.
But I am not here to titillate, I am here to warn.
Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, let’s get up and walk over to the pile, and examine it.
It’s huge, as we get closer, the thumps in time with our hearts are most disconcerting for us, earth shattering for the few in our midst, stupid enough to be this close to it at the moment, they are quite comical, they fall over and stand up, then they fall over again, there are some of them using the ones that have fallen over as something to steady themselves against, as they lean on the helpless, they beckon anyone that can look up long enough to do the same so they are not alone.
No creature ventured near, no bird, no insect, nothing would stand the din.
Only people, for all sorts of reasons, where an animal, has not one.
Have you noticed we walk in gravity’s realm again, we stand here enduring the thump in our hearts heads and minds, stand still look down, as we stand still each thump liquifies the ground, what must this be doing underground below our feet, what’s more, what is it doing to the inside of the pile, or further still into the earth.
Look up at it, it’s like one of those tourist curios made by confining different aeons’ old sand in layers.
But this has no confine, no glass for us to see the complexity.
Yet we do, the colours move about on the surface, but we know instinctively they must do they same under the surface as they float to their new destination.
We know, they don’t, the scared and screaming in awe, cowering or cursing, holding the ground as if they could fall off. They look up at the pyramidical as we do periodically.
We flick in an out of their moment, back to ours, every now and then, I will get it right for you and me at the same time, and we will share their time for a fraction of it, then back again, this must be slowed, you’re too fast, slow down your thought, don’t act quickly on impressions.
Imagine you flick your eyelids shut and open again, and each time you do, you’re in a different place, this place back then, now.
Are you seeing this, do you see what I say?
When you read, do you hear your voice?
How could this have happened, could sound move things, will people act this way then, do things hit the earth, when was the first, were you there?
We in the now, know quite plainly what we know, you have already worked out and round in your internal quiz whether this can be done in the practical scientific world and realm of all belief until a (ahem) a new one.
Well, yes, but, you have the problem of sheer size, momentum.
What would it take to make such a large sound or vibration, to be more accurate.
What would make particles in that huge number dance such an ordered dance, well, only one thing, as you know.
It’s used in industry daily, has been forever, one of our oldest industrial discoveries, vibration settles things, undoes things, anyone crazy enough to have ridden a two stroke motocross bike would have seen, as they revved their engine, the bolt with no thread lock will just undo, at a certain position of the throttle, as if a hidden hand had a spanner and the reason to undo it before your eyes, I think of it as a kid, having first seen it, Magic!
Power is all the difference, immense power, tapped.
A secret kept, like all wondrous discoveries, it’s well guarded for a time, for the chaos would leave nothing to make anything of, the chaos of us, wrenching and starving in the transition of the trend, whole towns, whole peoples, wiped out by an advancement, no care or thought given,
NO NO NO.
Just discarded, lives, existences, disgusting, in the future, we will look back at ourselves with such shame, I hope we don’t try and disconnect from it, it’s our failing right now, I hope it doesn’t re-appear and is allowed to rear it’s grotesque head, again.
Care should be given.
All care, no, cremations.
But there is none, the mad have the combination to the safe which a little door is kept in, now we must stop them from doing all they want, when they want, how they want, then keeping all the benefits, while our children will be left to fish about in the mess left behind, so kind.
That has to end.
A new Dilemma, for the nervous few.
Light the blue touch paper, stand well back.
Not for use by the general public.
Authorised Personnel Only.
Verboten.
Pour vous.
No idea is shared once the corporation gets it.
It’s metered out, while you lick the electric dick. You push a button going up in the lift/elevator. Like little bullets in a gun, to leave a scrape on the sky, while you’re up so high, in the new cathedral, no hats, no sticks, just big ideas, to salve little evil greedy minds.
Like you, the shareholder!
Is that a good idea, little bod?
Truth, truth, have my shares hit the roof, is that enough TRUTH!.
Aww, kissing, aww, kissing, better mwah mwah, sowwy.
There, there, all better.
Do you think new ideas are that, new ideas?, but do you also understand, stand under, that necessity is the mother of all invention?
At what part is invention, the eureka moment, the point the individual discovers a new facet to the orchestra of our noise, our Din.
Do you think that the wheel was a discovery of one, do you think not one human in time made a bird from feathers and heavy things for beauty’s sake, and then threw it, the treasure that was made, goaded by the jealous of the creation, they then all see that it falls and breaks.
But the idea, the understanding of that fall, seeing a stick float, means nothing scientific to the ignorant, but still conveys the notion of weight, somehow.
Your predecessors, thinking in the soup of sound and distraction but no less inquisitive than you, maybe more so, not jaded, like you, and I.
They are free to try again naturally unlike you, you’re over, in a cage.
You voted for the missile and the war monger.
They could try again, this time in cooperation, no taunts, all saw, they now all help, make the god fly, god must be a bird, it was in the sky.
Then they made the bird from thin twigs, bound together, the feathers re-attached, it was thrown alone, at first by one that observed the first try, it flew.
He then reconfigured the feathers to look more impressive, but gave no defiance of the gods, kept man on the ground, the secret kept. How many times do you think that happened, to group euphoria at a discovery, how many times do you think the bullies step in from the shadows, with their pets in tow?
Stoppin you havin' a ..
Invention, is not yours, it’s all, combined thought and nature, which is nurture, that is the mother, you may be the offspring, the lumbering through, observant, some, more than a few.
Do you think in the same gargantuan numbers we are told about, the great accident, we happened in, the host of numbers, to the power, of.
The numbers science uses to tell you, your brain is too small, don’t try, just listen.
Don’t listen too carefully though, don’t get bent the wrong way, just enough to sway, the way, we want, you to sway.
Why, for some evil gambit, stroking a cat, no, ha. That’s for youtubeboobs and ghoulylickers,
It is just to get, budget, to play the crowd and the politics, the clever get what they want with an indirect stealth, way safer, no trace.
It is intricate in nature, flowing in thought, constantly changing, on the, fly.
In those numbers, we shall go, may I borrow them for a mo, I can carry them for the oddest of reasons, with them in the mind’s eye, the number chance of us all, that just happened to fall, we are told, the numbers fell so often in so many places that we just became, like a pile grown, things just became through accident, trial and error, but in your trial, you have no, judge, and you have killed his mother with a lie of constance.
When it goes wrong, the hand wringing starts, you don’t like that, you will not be caught anymore. Dumb all, so they can only follow and peck a button, only an effigy in light, not a real pigeon, even lots of little real pecks can hurt.
Worse, some of you morph into vultures, need to be brought in and controlled, put to good use.
In the huge numbers, that create reliance, like a soft fluffy blanky..mm, nice,,, m warmm, sleepy..
OI,!
In those chances, did the boy throw the bird shape, until it flew, just one, or maybe two.?
Did another watch a rock, roll down a hill?
How many times makes a monkey fly?
You have know idea why, no mic drop needed.
I leave that to the greedy.
Look at me and my controversy.
It improves the bank balance to wade in where others fear to tread, even, carefully.
Science is magic, understood, IT STILL IS.
We are still slightly ignorant, have you noticed?
The usual troops in the point and shout fame game are now trying again to save the industry of fear and loathing, with less and less clothing, It’s a tricky rock face to repelle, I don’t need to fuel with the name you no welle.
Only people that dig for a living toil in the soil, drive the main road, only they can lose a livelihood, not the famous, their mine must never be shut, the need to undermine must always keep going, idiots, concubines, we should move on, with the ride.
Let’s get on a cleaner slide, that one has goo, from the ghoulgle tree, that they try to feed to you and me, division, division on any television, catch you in the Netflix, of controversy, soon anger, nothing could be finer, all funded by China, Putin does agree, Kim plays fireworks to make you look, while they all hold hands balanced on a plastic new communist steeple, trying to figure out how long they can fool the people.
Let’s leave them there, they aint going nowhere.
Shall we watch a film, to make it go away, for Disney sakes, let’s..
Come children, we come for you first, while your minds are young, flimsy, how perverse.
The moment of trust all should observe,
Sacred.
The most Sacred.
The steering of the young collective with frequency is not a new Idea, it is the oldest.
Listen, can you hear it, Thump,
Thump,
The thump of your heart, does it make you nervous to listen to, it should, it beats like a drum, what if you miss the metro, gnome, and it misses time, what time.
What does the heart beat do, do you know, we can forgo the lesson, in biology, you can go look, but you know in your head, let’s try and see, if you can.
It’s in rhythm with something which emanates from far away.
It came for a day.
The day is still here, there has been no night since.
We dream at night, the first advantage taken of the subconscious.
If the puppy whimpers in its sleep, you comfort it, as it wakes it sees the friendly face of you, slowly the whimper fades, what if you don’t do that?
You get more guard dogs.
Let’s think about the first dog you came across on your own, the first one that didn’t like you, or many, no one took the whimper from it, so it has nothing for you.
Do you remember that moment, think about it now, it’s ok, no one’s here, it’s only us, you can be honest for once, drop the story you made up, if you’re that type, the type that re-remembers everything, but that’s ok, it helps you cope, but, most dangerously, some go one step further and start to believe it.
A known percentage of the world population will do that.
Started in the stomach, didn’t it,
Cold, like too much ice crushed and swallowed, right in the pit, then a noise, a movement, a Snap!, of those snarling jaws, as it fixes you with those pointing eyes, it feels like the teeth are already there, doesn’t it, like the stare makes the tender parts it looks at, fizzle.
Quick!
What did dad say, what did mum, say, if you didn’t have a dad or mum, what did the boxman say, david lord fattenboroughactorbrother likes the queen mother say say..
Don’t move a muscle!
Don’t turn your back!
But most of all, Don’t Run.
So, why are you, face it, the fear?
It is a fear of not doing the usual ignorant thing, to calm, to stand and accept this dog is going to bite you, you would be better to decide where, and not leave that up to it, it’s way better at remembering where to bite, than you, anyway, it’s had no mental adaptions or distractions.
The Dog has one feeling,
You don’t want to be able to remember that feeling, it leads to mayhem.
Let’s leave the dog snarling, inches from us, let’s click our fingers and walk away, not run, the dog isn’t chasing, why, oh, it is moving, but so slowly it’s hard to even see..
We are ok, we are walking away, the snarl of the growl the dog is making, it’s become a constant grumble, a rumble, it slows to a low frequency, an oscillation, then silence.
The top of the pile is golden, as we look down at our feet, we have our toes in the water.
It’s warm, it has a strange sensation, along with it, like the tiny fish of the reef nipping at your legs, pulling at the impurities of you, taking them away and making good use, in the refuse.
What water, we look up in the silence, we are here again at the pile, which is now a thing, no doubt of this anymore, it has changed, the top is shining in the Sun, impossible to look at, with your nakedness.
We should reach into our sky rockets and pull out our sunglasses, the past is bright.
As we slip them on we can see much better, we can look atop the angle.
We can see the natural angle, the pile as it fell after much vibration, but now it is smooth, hardened by wind and rain.
Come on, let’s go and look around, to see what else has changed.
The water we walk in is just covering our ankles, it bubbles as we walk, we disturb bubbles from the bottom they rise, there is a strange smell, not pleasant.
Maybe we should go over there, where that old man is walking with the stick.
There is a group of them as we near them, they stop and tend to the leader, which is the old man.
We need to get our feet out of this water, if that is what it is, we should stand where they do, it’s higher and drier.
Let’s climb this small angle, as we do, we see it is not an island, it is long and straight.
Thump, the group hear it as we do, one deafening thump.
If we look through the group in front of us, we see they have some purpose, some direction, as there is only one, directly to the object’s center mass.
The single Sound has made them quicken the pace.
We should catch up with them, they are walking again, no, they are hurrying, and there are more behind.
There is something wrong this time, with us.
We felt the water, we smelt the odour, are we here, really.
Can you hear a dog, snarling.
Let’s sleep on it.
I will meet you at the entrance of our, old destination.
Ours.
The existence matters a thousand years before you, one thousand years after, anything more is too far away, down a snake, you should concern yourself with the ladders, shouldn’t you?
Forward on the ladder, back on the snake.
Our tiny deeds matter, it’s why the word was stolen and adapted, like so many preceding them.
My feet are feeling funny colours, must have been the water we waded thru,
Let's mix in with the,the procession, slip through the veil, it’s getting dark, there will be no argument over what colour our hair or eyes are, it will be too dark to see, but there may be a problem, we should check if we can change our spots, there is a light up ahead in the distance, look up from the scurrying crowd we have joined, look over the downed heads.
See straight like the light we see, we walk down the line to its source.
Careful, watt light you look at, won’t you?
You’re asleep.
Oi, quick wake up, we are nearly there.
I see your face, change it, quick, fit in, look around, copy the crowd, gesture, whim, fancy, look at the ground, see from the corner of the eye, the part less used, so sees best.
Now, we are with them truly, we can’t lift our heads for fear of discovery, they can’t for fear.
We are one.
Fear of missing out.
Deadly..
It feels like we are in a tunnel of glass, rubbing along the edges as we try to straighten our backs, we pass over the threshold, the floor seems to become soft, the steps we take have less meaning, we are not moving, forwards or backwards, everything goes in one direction.
Look as much as you can to the side, the being next to us, we huddled against for cover, she is being pulled in that direction, she looks at you in your eye, as she does, she sees the real you, her hands point, as her arms stretch out, she disappears as you look at yourself, to see, so do we.
We find ourselves floating, in nothing, a void, the real void, somewhere we can, never ever see, because there is no, thing.
We are holding hands, it’s ok, we have each other now, only.
We are our only reference of any, thing.
Smile, it’s all we have left in the end.
Nothing mattered and a good grip leads to a good trip, wished.
As we glumly wonder what has happened, a light comes on, somewhere, as it does, it repeats in a spiral whirling, round and round, screwing off, far into the distance.
What is it, it has a strange shape that moves and changes, its reflection and forerunner have the exact same image, but they are not the next, or ours, before.
Do you feel if we look hard we can see?
Concentrate on the image, feel us falling towards it, yes, our feet are pointing now, our knees, we are sliding now towards it, we are picking up speed, no sound, we come into line now, along side, the swirl of swirls, its confusing to look at, no focus can be gained and the light is so bright in intervals that seem almost timed to the eyes destruction, close your eyes.
Feel the sensation on your body, it’s not yours anyway, is it, especially not here.
Then, now.
We feel as if now speed is not a word, it has become an experience for us, like the time you slipped and got the cold sweat as you grabbed the rail, did anyone see, no, good, your fear is concealed again for another day.
We are getting close now to one of the reflections, or the original, who knows, where did this circle start, we cannot see its origin or its destination, we don’t know if it has one, or we have arrived and left in this instant, to start the journey again.
We come alongside this spiral mass, we can’t get away, we are going towards it, this is where we go now, there are others around, they fly alongside us, all the shapes our bodies make pull into one, converging at a tear, a flash bang, maybe a wallop, what a picture, we flow into the field we know, are we home, stars, lights in places they seem they should be.
While floating, no control, we pitch round, over and over, upside down, right way, who knows anymore, looking back at the tear, others are coming through the opening, just like us.
Something comes in, all must expand.
Snap, we are back, on our faces with the rest, the pile is behind us, we have come out the other side.
The light is behind us now.
Get up, everyone else is, they are all bewildered, not just us, you and me, the us, the we.
We are on a downward slope, let’s walk down with it, that will be easier, the crowd seems to be converging at a point where torches are burning.
Let’s get to an edge, as we approach, do you feel the thump, but it has changed, it, yes it’s one beat quicker, it yanks at the inside, as though we have run, but are not out of breath.
It’s painful, our heads start to thump with it too quickly, we are now walking aimlessly to a point between two pillars, round, we go, it’s too dark to see past the fire of the torches lighting the way.
As we pass over this threshold, all becomes easier, the hearts starts to get used to its now double function, the paths widen out, the others around flock with the ones they are nearer to, we are left together, the others look at us, a circle starts to form around us and an eye comes, out of the darkness, floating towards us, it’s getting closer, yes, now we can see, with our eyes, it is also exactly that, our exact eye.
Looking at us as it approaches, it looks with knowledge, as if it is attached to another somewhere, somewhere off in the distance, the future past far away.
It’s getting closer, we should not be here, we should wake now and go back to sleep, see you tomorrow, that’s enough for today.
Goodnight.
See you in the dreamtime.