as it goes...

as it goes from here now.
as it might appear to be.
but we have been fooled by appearances before and come to swift judgment about it.
and there are those who think those judgments still hold true as before.
silly them.

as we attempt to explain everything.
as we wonder how that might be done.
as it is all before around us.
as who else knows better than us?

as we eat some mexican take out.
as we spin in and out along the pathless path dancing and singing and falling down and laughing.
as it comes to us and goes from us as it will.
as it is it.
as that is one explanation we might offer.
or not.
huh?

and the mad god laughs and screams alone in the limbo void abyss in our heads imagining everything in one cosmic mad delusion of it all it dives into again and again to experience itself being as it might imagine itself being whatever being ourselves.
huh?

the gods play in idle amusement with our lives according to their slightest whim blowing us our fortune this way and that way and the other way being bored with all eternity already.
huh?

exactly.

nevermind.

from moment to moment...

as it comes in and goes out - or vice versa.
as he sits here amused by it all.
as he may be out to lunch on a few things.
as if it really matters.

as it is entirely meaningless but within that we find meaning for ourselves what we can.
as it is all now here (nowhere) along on the pathless path.

as we dance and sing.
as we fall down.
as we laugh.

as we chant these mantra verses to ourselves and hope for the best and doubt the worst.
as it may all collapse down on our heads at any moment.
as he just kinda wonders about it.
what is one to do?

huh?

huh? he says.
what? says the machine everyone knows as nancy.
i don't know what, he says.
well, she says, just imagine it then.
yes, he says, that'll work.

and it does.

as they sit on the beach with the waves come crashing in and go washing out.
as the dance and sing.
as they fall down.
as they laugh.

all beneath the moon.

imagine that, baby.
imagine no abused and sick and starving children of all ages.
imagine godhead.

the tea party???

it all comes and goes as it will as it is it.
it dives and drowns into itself over and over.
the spectacle continues through it all.
ha ha ha...

the idle mind in the devil's playground.
the plaything at the whim and amusement of the gods as we imagine them to be.
the meaninglessness of the void of it all.
all and all and then some.
ha ha ha...

as he lights another cigarette.
as he is very much confused and loving every moment of it.
as he is very much who/whatever the fuck he is and digging the groove of it.
ha ha ha...

and as he is in the garden.
and as he dances and sings.
and as he falls down.
and as he laughs.
ha ha ha...

nothing about scooters...

ha ha ha...

as he adds some more to the nonsense of it all.
as if he has something other to do but waste his precious idle time in the devil's playground like he does.
or not.

what?

nevermind.

take another hit, baby.
may it serve you well.
ha ha ha...

a tale told by a idiot.
a poem that is not a poem written by a poet who is not a poet.
as if that matters.
what matters is that this has nothing to do with scooters or any dada such like.
it is its own dada, baby.
don't you forget it.
ha ha ha...

as if this means anything.
as if it doesn't.
as if he cares.
as if he doesn't.
ha ha ha...

and the mad god laughing and screaming in his head.
this is his enlightenment it would seem.
and he would have it be no other way.
better this than the blissful boredom of heaven the others try to attain.
ho-fucking-hum.

as he lights another cigarette.
as he watches and waits in the garden with the gods wondering about it all.
as he is well aware of the contradictions.
dada.
ha ha ha...

as he sits down in the bunker hidden away from the mass confusion of the world in his own content little dream dreaming of itself dreaming.
as he gazes at the computer screen awaiting instructions.
as if it matters.
as the universe is all happening at once from flashing particles to turning galaxies and all in-between.
as he is amazed with wonder and delight.
ha ha ha...

as the agony of the others in this world surrounds him and he can do nothing for it.
not that he really cares.
who does?
it's party time, baby.
what's on tv?
ha ha ha...

scooters.
ha ha ha...

it's all dada...???

what's be happening?

and the thing of it continues.
all as if it might be something real and true before our eyes instead of just our imagination.
or what?

as the gods play on with us as their pieces in a game beyond our control yet we are given free will to decide our fate within it but only at their whim of what is and is not to be.
huh?

as he sits here wondering.
ha ha ha...

and what may be reveled for the one who is wise and/or insane enough to perceive as it all amounts to nothing as nothing is all there is except what we might imagine otherwise for our own amusement.
the mad god laughing and screaming in the void of its own existence creating this mad delusion that becomes the universe at large.
and who wants that in their head?
too many other things to attend to.
busy busy busy.

and all of us alone and lonely in a world not of our making but that we all participate in creating each in our small way in the mix of it all.
this devil's playground and our idle minds.

and he writes what is given to him to write about though it is all dada and then some.
the deliberate irrationality of it all as it might seem to be.
yahoo?

as he runs his fingers through his tangled hair and ponders his reflection in the maze of mirrors.
this solipsistic dream dreaming of itself dreaming.
lying on a pillowed bed in heaven never to be disturbed.

and as he sits in the garden beneath the tree of life eating the fruit thereof as he has been here now before and again and again waking from the nightmare of the knowledge of good and evil.
this mythical thing he imagines for himself for his own amusement from time to time.

and him and his confused thought that others seem to not understand or be amused by.
as he has been isolated from the herd while they go about running the world without his interference.
as he has willed it for himself to be.
as the war continues forever among them all about this and that and the other thing they never seem to be able to agree on one way or the other.
the war of nation against nation and within every household person to person.
oh boy.
ho-hum.

as he falls from dizzying heights like an angel from heaven.
as he lifts himself up from the dark depths like a demon from hell.
as he dances and sings.
as he falls down.
as he laughs.

as he just kinda hangs on beyond hope of anything happening at all that makes much sense or means shit to a tree.
be here now and all that jazz.
rubber chicken.

as the universe turns around in on itself and expanding outward into newer dimensions of being whatever it might happen to be.

but whatever...

the pathless path...???

dadadadadadadadadadadada...

while it continues gaga with dada of itself reforming itself each and every moment he sits here down in the bunker wondering what the fuck about it all.
it's all as if it were true while he knows he is dreaming like the mad god dreams laughing and screaming in the midst of the oblivion void of self-illusion.
and also upon the beach of the island in the eye of a storm raging on and otherwise calm sea which is humanity he watches the waves crashing pulled by the tides pulled by the moon.
smoking a cigarette.
coughing and farting at once.
he survives for now.

and then there is the machine everyone knows as nancy designed and built to destroy the world.
it's a joke no one gets.
the midwife to our cosmic birth out of our heads with it.
new worlds to gain.
we are the crown of creation and don't even know it as we squander our inheritance on the most mundane of everything we might imagine wallowing in our self-created pain and suffering and misery.

get it?
ha ha ha...