Dog Poet Transmitting.......
I guess we can file most everything these days under, “You can't make this shit up.” The number one social justice, vaudeville sodomy routine has been on the Billboard Top 100 for years now. You know that the hits are just going to keep on coming. The lack of humor in the attempt for humor is like holding neo-liberal Barbie underwater at a preschool swimming pool; no bubbles, no laughter, just cringing embarrassment at the sight of it, falling flat on its smiley face ass. I could not write something this bad. It takes a very 'special' lack of talent, way south of retarded to compose something like that.
It is happening in a step by step fashion. The point of this is that the craziness is much less noticeable. You're given a brief period of accommodation. It's a sort of stutter stagger, drunk and hanging on the lamppost, near hurling vertigo thing that takes up all your attention and you can't remember how you managed to drive home, or if you did and 'where's my car, Dude?” Actually is is more like a 'where's my life, who am I? What happened to everybody? How come people are so incredibly dim? They all have this look like that of a stunned ox. What do you get when everyone is dancing to a different drummer and it's the same drummer (there's something... something about the shape of his head) and he sounds like this?
I don't want to sound complaining but... I guess I do. I don't want to sound judgmental but... I guess I am. I don't want to sound like that drummer and where I happen to also be the drums but... I do. It's not pretty but it is what it is. It's like a flamenco dancer on Quaaludes and cheap wine and his partner is a Zine Queen. I couldn't find a reference in the search engines for 'zine queens'. This is what we called the women in a mental institution I was in. They were the chronic schizophrenics who were on large regular doses of Thorazine and you would see them at the monthly dances where they would shuffle across the floor, their eyes perpetually down as they searched for cigarette butts. They would pick them up and then shuffle (that old Thorazine Shuffle) to an attendant who would light it for them. There might be a drag left, sometimes even two. Thorazine Kings would dance with them, something from Motown playing in the background. It was one of the saddest things I had ever seen. I wasn't crazy, I just couldn't fit in. There was no room in the goldfish bowl for a fish like me, one with an eye in the center of his forehead. It scared the other fish who would collectively dart in one direction or another every time that eye blinked. It's still blinking. They're still darting. The walls of the institution have expanded until they contain the entire world and you can't tell which side of it you are on except for the Spanish subtitles.
We put the Zine Queen link in, and which has no relative context, because of the touching dialogue about cruelty free leather. The rest of the site is somewhere between a Jughead comic and Wittgenstein's “Aesthetics and Philosophy.” If you want a double patty real bullshit burger you can do no better than this. Here's the first line from a review on the offering; “Although universally recognized as one of the greatest of modern philosophers (groan, sigh...). Wittgenstein's work in aesthetics has been unjustly neglected. (insert uproarious laughter here).” You'll note that the review is hosted on a site with a web address that includes Plato and Stanford. How Wittgenstein has any connection to Plato is beyond me. I always think of Wittgenstein as being Kandinsky's Siamese twin. Here is the state of modern art in present day occupied Germany. Here is the state of contemporary music which is no longer music. Here is the state of modern television. Here is the state of modern cinema. Is it any wonder that society is now composed of rejects from the (original) Adam's Family? AND this is ALL being engineered!
The West and the East are both taking a swan dive into a burbling hog lagoon. There is this condition that happens during times of material darkness. We become obsessed with glitter and the shine of the false light to the extent that we do not realize the most prominent force acting upon us and that is FEAR. So it is that we burrow. We dig into the material murk to hide ourselves within it. We seldom know this is what we are doing. We are deeply, spiritually uneasy, as we should be but we confuse the fear with the drive of appetite and the compulsion of desire. Like moths to a flame we are drawn into the vortex of attraction but it scares the shit out of us because we know something is not right and it can't end well, somewhere in the mist that always forms around the future ...because the future is not set in stone. It is not something you can say will be any particular way because the wheel is still in spin and we are co creators with the ineffable, whether by opposition to ...or in concert with. It's one thing on an individual basis and another thing altogether with the exponential collective. This is why the representation of Love and Unity are so critically important. We can neutralize the negativity that is the product of the agents of the dark side
Love and Unity are symbiotic. Love generates Unity and creates a matrix like an invisible bundle of wooden sticks which cannot be broken by hand, where one stick might easily be snapped in two. Out of this bundle of sticks comes a unity as each of us, sharing in a common mindset, add to the integrity of the whole. Love can be felt and exercised effectively, even if it is not understood. Love not understood can create understanding. It's one of those working conundrums. You might not get how a car is started in consideration of all the parts that interact to bring it to that active state ...but you know turning the key will make it happen
This is the age of Brotherhood and Love is the key ingredient that will bring it about. Love manifests kinship between those who may be dissimilar in aspect and attitude but who share a common vulnerability to Love. Love makes us both vulnerable and seemingly invulnerable because it makes us fearless. Somehow we know that Love is a continuum brought forth by the ineffable, which runs directly to the human heart. Though we may not self consciously accept it, something deep within us knows that God and Love are interchangeable. One might say that Love is the initial extension of the ineffable into form and experience. Perhaps form is not a precise identifier but it is true that Love brings many items into form and one of them could we be you and I and certainly is once it has had its way with us.
Love has octaves of being... from the rutting stag to the praying saint in the ecstasy of union with itself, after a mysterious fashion. One can well say that passion is a possible expression of love at whatever the level that it operates from may say it is. Certainly Michelangelo felt a kind of passion and Al Goldstein felt another kind of passion, where Love had been perverted or distorted into an ill made and inaccurate simulacrum of itself. Love, whatever the particular tenor of any extension of it may be, is an authentic statement of whatever we are at any given moment in time. The more Love is expressed through any of us, the more it adds to its own facility and power to express, thereby existing in a form of perpetual evolution that can be as fast or as slow as whatever our intensity or lack of intensity demands of it; keeping in mind that Love will eventually demand everything of us and that is as it should be and how we most desperately want it to be, regardless of our inability to comprehend that prior to the descent of the all consuming drive to have it made so in us.
We are not speaking from some highly placed bully pulpit. We are not saying these things because they sound all noble and reflect well on the one who says them. We say them because they are undeniably and indisputably true. We say it because we have exhausted every other option of possibility in existence. Everything to every side of Love is a wasteland of no real value and this is what anyone will discover in the pursuit of it and the lesson learned is that it cannot be acquired or raised to its greatest level of expression until every other thing in the surrounding wasteland has been seen for what it is, some irrelevant distraction that looms as an obstacle in the way of true meaning.
Love is considerably more than Love seems, as we have understood it to this point and at no time has anyone grasped the depth or extent of Love, nor will anyone EVER do so. Each of us will comprehend it to the degree of our capacity to do so and no one of us has the same capacity nor should we feel diminished or exalted by this fact because all of us will be transported to states so far beyond anything we had previously imagined that the very idea of competition with one another will be erased from our hearts and minds forever. Once real Love gets its hooks into you, you are effectively lost to anything else. There will be no peace otherwise to be found and once found no conflict will be allowed entry. Love transmutes everything into itself. It changes the vibrationary rate of anything into a single resonance and is the means and manner by which lead is turned into gold.
This is no easy acquisition. So very few are up for the challenge of being rendered into an endless reservoir of Love but... that time will come. That time will come as the final fruit of all the impotent follies that led to nothing at all. It will come when all other things have been discarded in respect of it. It will come. It is our destiny for it to be born and come to flower in us. When it will happen cannot be determined but it can be accelerated through real determination, with faith and certitude as its boon companions. There is nothing that cannot be accomplished if these three great friends attend you on your way. With the ineffable at the central core of your being, these three great friends will be flooded with light and illuminate the darkness until it has been driven beyond the borders of sight.
Love with all the force of being you can muster. Strive as if there were nothing else and there will be nothing else.
BEAMED FROM THE SAUCER POD BY LES VISIBLE AT 20-12
If you're new to this blog you may be unaware that Visible (aka 'The Dog Poet') is also a musician and author (plus a few other things besides those).
If you enjoyed this blog post then please consider supporting Visible; share the post or link to it; leave a positive or encouraging comment; or you might even buy one of his music albums or Ebooks.
Just to... leave good footprints would be a positive thing.
Thank you for your support!