Browsing Posts in Musings and Prose

As the old Buddhist parable goes: Nothing is Permanent. That would indeed be a wonderful thing as the permanence of dissonance, from ourselves and from the world around us, would be a frightening scenario if such a thing existed through eternity and all forms manifested within. As I struggle to grasp and cling to the life of stability and the facade of happiness — with varying degrees of success and outlook I travel back to a time where there was absolute and permanent understanding of the universe and my place in that universe. Though, like perceptions of happiness, this understanding — this epiphany — would merely be a facade as well. Yet there is still much to be gained from our conceptualizations and schema of life constructed deep within our minds, be they facade or not. It is our own dissemination of such facades, not prevailing culture at large, that ultimately determines the world we see before our eyes. Through war, poverty, environmental devastation and corrupt systems of societal control; our world is tainted and distorted as we lose grasp of our places and the actions that may one day ameliorate an end to that suffering, for the concept of all life being suffering is not permanent nor absolute, but is merely a limitation of conceptual continuity and thought.

The World of Devas

The Devas are around us — be they particles and atoms that surround and consume us or any other energy that escapes our sights. In the traditional Buddhist construction, the Devas are but merely a little more advanced than us humans. Awaiting passage to new forms of lives or just existing in the fringes of this world, the devas are in part a diva as we know it, though without the ability for adornment and praise. continue reading…

Chapter One: The Faceless Ones

The Divas of Degradation stand behind the walls of corruption, graft and institutionalized criminal enterprises propped by the swirling clouds of the inevitable storm that bemoans a subtle and charismatic calm before the empire falls. To rise against the Divas is to come to the understanding that pragmatic dissonance is by far the absolute and penultimate action before our final attempt: a wholesale dismantling of society and the transformation to a new state of being.

Back at the seminary, I took my vows to uphold the righteous laws of man bestowed by that grand creature of our subconscious constructs. The processes of mapping the paths from our scenic beginning as single-celled miscreants in the slush of the petulant seas to the current state of blissful inhibition is quite easy with the proper tools of enlightenment. continue reading…

We’re All Going Down

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Going Down

When you’re in a dream
and you think you’ve got your
problems all nailed down
Pieces of the scheme
Seem to rattle up and to rattle down (Reed)

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Screaming, bellowing and exerting the trepidations of youthful reverie, I take the plunge into a full mutilation of the psyche. The spirit never seems to crash, or to fall, or to disseminate as I try going down and taking my crew with me.  Ultimately, the success of the transoceanic journey from synaptic relay posts to the heart of matter relies solely on the abilities of my crew to dispense of the weight that accrues throughout our voyage. continue reading…

 

Oh! Sweet Nuthin’

Say a word for Jimmy Brown
He ain’t got nothing at all
Not a shirt right off his back
He ain’t got nothing at all
And say a word for Ginger Brown
Walks with his head down to the ground
They took the shoes right off his feet
And threw the poor boy right out in the street

And this is what he said
:
Oh sweet nuthin’
She ain’t got nothing at all
Oh sweet nuthin’
She ain’t got nothing at all
(Lou Reed)

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The independent and learned society is truly the manifestation of cognitive absurdity wrapped into the fecal intersection of life and emotional dysfunction.

Sweet nothing: this is what we’ve got. But I’ll give it a shot because that is the only option, right?

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Winding through the corridors of manipulation and hyperbole can be quite the tiring journey. As I contemplate and sit in the puddles of the vomit spewing from the heads of the State that I call my own, I have the epiphany of a freedom of inconsequential meanings. Through the varying layers of confusion and psychosis, I stumble about these corridors blindly yet acutely aware of my impending collapse and re-birth into the womb of consciousness.

Gaining professional experience after completing my dissertation on Urban Pharmacology, I walked and strolled about the streets in a state of self-identifying and self-ameliorating dissonance; the white boy in the world of the dark forces of Americana laid out on the dirty streets where the poor man drinks from the cup of dreams and promises that have yet to be fulfilled. continue reading…

   

Well, I’m Beginning to See the Light.
Some people work very hard,
but still they never get it right.
Well, I’m beginning to see the light.

I wanna tell all you people, now.
Now, now, baby, I’m beginning to see the light.

Wine in the morning, and some breakfast at night.
Well, I’m beginning to see the light.

Here we go again,

I thought that you were my friend…

How does it feel, to be loved? (Reed)

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The light is lurking somewhere in the moment. Somewhere in the distance and beyond practical solutions and rational discourse is the home of the insufferable and indistinguishable light of consciousness.

Heroes come in many forms, though rarely among the wretched, the weary and the disgusting souls from beggar roots in Calcutta and Lima and Sao Paulo and Los Angeles.

Living in misery, squalor and filth; wholly disenfranchised from the universal perceptions of sustainability, the heroes are but of millions in a vast wasteland of the human capital left behind to rot in the pits of our own disregard.

Such is the lot of the human race. Such is the lot of our collective psyche.

If all life is indeed suffering and ending desire obliterates suffering, then what of the archetypes of our own construct that are inherent in humanity? continue reading…

   
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