Sunday, January 24, 2016

Or not. Depending on what Month it May be

Troubled Consciousness's never think of their own problems. This is why they are eager to go out and find others to make them submit to their own. If People ever comprehended this, they will instantly find, that Earth had turned to paradise. However, a small intently focused click, despises such a thought, and losing their thrown Dumb, to another shitter, that is eager to squat their fermented juices, to the bottomless sewer pit.

Someone stopped by the other day to visit, and could not believe that Humans were "still" having this bowel movement problem, after a Million years of digestive evolution. We both snorted laughingly, until there was not any blue left to turn our faces with. We talked some more about the hilariousness of the Human Conditional present, which, this present, has continuously been the present, for that same Millionth durations of Time.

Absurd. Odd. Pathetic. Abhorrent. Lame. Redundant. Ignorantly Arrogantly Foolish. These were just a few descriptions, that followed, but I will save you from the sardonic repertoire, of that afternoon, for your Consciousness's State, of course. The flamboyant denial of the aristocratic slaves, was also a peculiar funny topic as well, but will leave that out, to prevent causing disparity further, which at this late stage, perhaps could be a Mortal infliction.

All is well, and well is all, so sayeth the flower, molding from ruined soil, while the baskets get woven, by the weaver's hands in style. Or not. Depending on what Month it May be. Well, since that is the case, May it be, so sayeth Me, or I, very difficult to keep track, with all these letters flying by, while the Ghost Frogger hops lilly pads, looking for the anchor, that deserves a tongue lashing, but not as the fly.

It is wise and Good not to make sense, when so little sense the reflection pool has also been reflection making. Bent reflections never turn straight and narrow, easily perceived, for most rays are meaning to be miscomprehended, so as to give purpose of the dance of life, to their own dying light, that this turning of the age brings with it, despite.

Dirt is old, and older still is, waking up to find something new, well, that would be new, you know? How long has it been since something new came around these parts? Well, longer than the recording of time itself, which is where the Original Problem began to begin with . But dont tell them that, dead set on walking off the plank, and into Oblivion, they are.

Oblivion, for Oblivions sake. Strange concept, when Oblivion does not exist. Just a word and term, for another subject, that was never known anything about, in the first place. Devolution of the Mind is like that at times. How else does one clean a house during Spring time though?

How much farther, are we there yet? Funny. Did you ever leave, for anywhere to get to?

If anyone does ever leave anywhere, then there are nothing but well worn pathways, like a brick road that has been traveled over for thousands of years, without any repairs, and this is what they consider "New". The World looks over and giggles, smiles, and goes back to sleep. I heard her talking in her sleep the other Night. She kept saying "And they think they know everything". Followed by "everything they touch, they destroy". Followed further with; and then strong snoring ensues "Wait until they find out they are not even close to the top of their so called food chain". ZZZZzzzzZZZZZzzzzZZZZzzzzZZZZzzzzZZZZzzzzZZZZzzzzZZZZzzzzZZZZ.

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