I was bad

At poetry

But then I realized

I just hate poets

Lost in arcana

I don’t care about

obscure references to the Iliad or Dante

Or descriptions of flowers

Proving your brilliance

I care about

Wrestling with the Divine

And finding meaning in the dirt

Those who don’t see this

Have a different mission

To fulfill

And that is okay

But Heaven save me

From the poets

—

Good writing

Comes from pain

The pain of living

And not knowing

If anything matters

Create your own meaning

They say

Glibly

Mindlessly

As they consume

And regurgitate

Propaganda

But

Life is pain

We will die

And soon

Probably painfully

Which is hard to look at

For too long

Like staring into the sun

And the world

Will move on and forget

As it continues its spiral

Into the abyss

—-

Go to work

Shuffle papers for eight hours

Which could be done

In two

Or less

Keep the masses

On the hamster treadmill

Because otherwise

Chaos

They promised us

Freedom from work

A glorious

Technological future

Meet the Jetsons

Star Trek

The odious stooge Peter Thiel

Famously said

We wanted flying cars, instead we got 140 characters?

As he sprints to build

The digital panopticon

Control comes first

Second

Third

Any other priority

Is distant

Control

Is what matters

—-

The Gods are fighting

In us

At all times

The voices we hear

Are echoes of eternity

But we ignore it

Schizophrenia

Autism

Drug me up, doc

As above, so below

You can turn away

But the price to pay

Is huge

The answer lies

In synthesis

But we don’t use this language

The framing is nonexistent

There will be a rebirth of the Old Gods

From inside

Or

Death

And it looks like Death is winning

—-

Reading Bukowski

The drinking

Was made romantic

The pain of living

Is almost unbearable

For those sensitive

To the injustice of this world

But drinking

Just masks the problem

Punts it into the future

To enjoy the moment

And maybe that’s the answer

Maybe

There is no answer to be found

But I feel compelled

To try

Anyway

Like Sisyphus

Carrying the alcohol up the hill

—-

Give me attention

Likes

Restacks

Comments

Fill my empty void

With the meaning

Of attention

When nothing is left

Society is a smoking ruin

At least

I will have

Attention

It means

I matter

Somewhere

To somebody

Momentarily

Where is the line

Between writing for oneself

And writing as court jester

In monkey frame

It blurs

It shifts

Inner knowledge of this blur

Doesn’t change the blur itself

It just makes things blurrier

But fuck it

Give me attention

—-

Knowledge of the world

Doesn’t change

That one must still live in it

one can wax poetic all day

The Rothschilds

The central bankers

The meta conspiracies

But at the end of the day

I still have bills to pay

I have to go to work

I still have to interact with zombies

What good

Is knowledge

Without action?

Mental masturbation

But

A calling

Is a calling

Is a calling

A butterfly beats its wings

Who knows

What effect it will have

A world away?

—-

I believed in romance

Once

Putting pussy on the pedestal

Desires molded

By television and film

And porn

Expectations by Mother

Projecting onto the Object

Of affection

For worship

And attention

But then

You wake up one day

Next to a Nag

With her own issues

Her own insecurities

Her own will to power

And you realize

She’s just a person

Too

And who likes people?

—-

The screen

Blue

Looks at you

As you look at it

Feeding you your desires

A Devil

Holding up a mirror

To Narcissus

Lost in a cloud

Of dopamine

Hits

The sands in the hourglass

Fall

Relentlessly

As you walk

Staring at the blue screen

Toward Death

Could this time

Be better spent

With family and friends?

But they’re staring at their screens

Too

All around the dinner table

A Norman Rockwell painting

Of screens

Its call is seductive

Alluring

Irresistible

Give me my screen

—-

My food stares at me

Screaming

As I eat it

$7.99 a pound from Whole Foods

Or Trader Joes

Cheap

Cheap

Cheap

Historically peasants ate meat

Once a week

Or month

Now it’s all the time

McDonalds

Tripled their prices

Still cheap

Who wants to pay

$14.99 for free range

Organic

How does one know

What that even means?

These labels

Are slapped on by predators

Thinking us morons

Or not

How does one know?

How does one quantify

Quality of life

Know your butcher

Know where your food comes from

They say

Okay

Great

My food comes

From Outside

Of the Concrete Jungle

And I have no connection

To the earth

A mass industrialized slaughterhouse

Disembodied from Soul

You must be the change you wish to see in this world

Says Gandhi

But where is God in this?

What did the cows do to deserve this?

And why

Oh why

Does my body feel better on a mostly meat diet?

—-

Delay

Doing what you have to do

Going to work

One becomes an automaton

Guided by Process

Turn the brain off

Let the Process

Consume you

We worship

What we pay attention to

Through our acts

It has to be done

The worship of Process

If you rebel

You can’t Consume

Can’t Mate

Can’t Live

Ellul stated

Nature would become

Subordinate

To Process

Now

There is nothing but Process

Left

And no one remembers

What it was like

Before

So go through the motions

Subsume yourself to Process

And watch yourself

Perform too

From the vantage of the Other

Because there is

No way out

—-

Naming the Devil

Drains its of its power

It undergoes a mysterious process

Of integration

Giving you choice

Our unconscious bleeds out

If we don’t acknowledge it

Pay fealty to it’s inner mystery

psychoanalysis is control

They say

Mold people into widgets

Kaczynski wasn’t wrong

But he wasn’t right

either

In a world where

The Gods are dead

Not just in spirit

But in tradition

Nothing to grasp

It is only connection to the Self

Which morphs and shifts when viewed

Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle

Applied to the Soul

Which offers hope

Because if one can’t reach the center

Of one’s own soul

Then how can artificial intelligence

How can elites

How can anyone but God?

The elusiveness of the Self

Is the key

The one thing

Outside of their grasp

—-

Internet screeds

Believe me

This way

Not that way

And things will get better

Look at the latest outrage!

Designed

to elicit a response

Fed algorithmically

Straight into your brain

You dance

Passionately

With the strings overhead

It feels good

Distracts

From the Void

Bread and circus

Anything to avoid

Contemplation

Of the Void

Chase wealth

Status

Drugs

Alcohol

Travel

Women

Porn

Anything to avoid

Contemplation

Of the Void

But one has to live!

You may say

Meditate as a Buddhist

As a hermit

Until death?

What fun is that?

It isn’t

I don’t do it either

So live the game

Embrace it

Feel alive

Under the strings

Anything

To avoid contemplation

Of the Void

—-

The five minutes

After a good fuck

Or a good steak

Are the only times

I feel free

Free from want

Free from worry

I cum

And the biochemical and psychological change

Is instant

But fleeting

One may catch a glimpse of Paradise

Through drugs

Or sports

Or success

But it never lasts

One is either chasing an Object

Or bored

The setup of this reality is

All wrong

Satisfaction

Living in the moment

An impossible ideal

We are either thinking of the Past

Or the Future

As we march toward

The certainty

Of Death and Taxes

But knowledge of the process

Changes nothing

So give me

Sex and steak

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5733334&forum_id=2:#48986485)