Entry I
I write inside this journal
As a record of my thoughts –
To keep my mind set upon
What is my chosen lot –
But often that mind wanders,
Far more lost than found –
At least, that’s what I think,
Since thinking’s not profound –
Rather, how the thought
Links with reality
And forms a complex bind
Between the chained and free –
So here I question life
And pick my perturbed brain
Since thinking without record
Is lifting weights without the gain –
So let us think!
Fragrance or stink,
The scent must never wane.
Entry II
a thought
A THOUGHT
what’s within a thought?
it comes and goes
sucks and blows
felled from blows
by friend or foe:
another thought
coming behind
more becoming
than what came just thoughts before
the thought itself
can be worthless
or priceless
depending on thoughts of that thought
and the thoughts thought long before it
as thought by thinkers
whose thoughts
are hardly ever their own
new is usually better
unless it is a thought
that feels less like a thought
and more like a fetter
that chains our minds to what
the world mistakes us for
so better is the thought
removed from time
altogether
Entry III
I think
therefore I am
a thought?
since I come and go
not unlike the wind
invisible in its power
not unlike the rain
refreshing despite inconvenience
not unlike a storm
abrasive with a touch of the divine
pushing and pulling
an immovable object
not immobile
just immovable
not by choice
rather by motive
when the thought finally passes –
as it so often does,
though not always –
was it ever really there?
indeed, says the thinker –
until they, too, pass
from thinker of the thought
to thought of the Thinker –
for, without Thinker,
the thinker’s less than a thought
and more like an unthought
an unthought
is a type of thought
thunk by thinker
who thinks a thought against thoughts –
thoughts have value
unless they don’t,
and any that doesn’t
is an unthought
taking space in the thinker
where there is neither use nor room for it
Entry IV
what is the use of thinking a thought
when the thinker does not think it
worth thinking?
or when their value is a burden
on the thinker of the thought?
why oh why do thoughts come
and go just as they please
when the thinker’s set on something else
and the thought detracts from the thinker
being a thought?
it is because the thinker
is not a complete thinker
but a thought built by thinkers
overstepping their boundaries
as thinkers of their own thoughts
and instead thinking thoughts
for other thinkers
– that is the collective Thinker –
until the thinker
recognizes other thinkers as
thinkers beyond their thoughts
as well as thoughts of their own thinking
as well as thinkers of their own thoughts
concerning what the thinker is thinking,
then that thinker
thinking all those thoughts
remains an unthought
since nothing remains
but the thought itself
as it passes through and out of thinking
Entry V
the unthought is not worth thinking
but what gives thought its worth?
is it thinking as the action,
or the thought behind reaction –
a physics of interaction,
the true science of existence –
the thinker themselves,
the Thinker itself,
the thinking of thinkers on Thinkers and thought,
or what might thought be or become?
the truth is, thought is fathomless
because so much worth is placed upon
something with no inherent worth at all –
or inherent because we think we know
why or from where
or from whence
it came our way –
because the thinker’s purpose is purpose
and, without purpose,
the thought is worth so much
as an unthought –
even if they are two totally separate things
only by the fact
that one is controlled
and one seemingly isn’t
but only seemingly –
look deep within an unthought
and you will find its roots
lie deep within a thought
crucial to the thinker –
the unthought is dismissed
or becomes an obsession
because the thinker refuses to link
the unthought to themselves,
tossing it into the storm
of society or nothingness
which are one and the same
when the unthought takes root
it is destructive
by virtue of its indefinite form
and undefined character
which throws the mind into turmoil
as it tries in vain to focus
on what seems most important;
a vague feeling that “yes, this is worth my thought,”
when really it saps the thinker of their ability to think
and leaves them no more than a thought
in the mind of more capable thinkers
as they waste away in the realm of thought
instead of the realm of thinkers
and are so forgotten, likewise.
Entry VI
a Thinker is unlike a thinker,
for a Thinker is where thinkers come from
who were once no more than
thoughts having yet to be thought
all worthwhile thoughts come
from a Thinker,
all worthless unthoughts
come from a thinker –
a Thinker can have no unthoughts –
and so we are left
with our guide for understanding the nature
of thought
a Thinker can be anything –
religion, nature, society
(not God, who is beyond
thinkers and Thinkers alike,
and thus, by being, has already thought) –
so long as it remains outside
the thinker
for the thinker can only absorb or repurpose
the thoughts of the Thinker
and the thinker cannot imagine
the thoughts of the Thinker
on their own
but, oh!
how Thinkers can be corrupted so easily
by the thoughts and unthoughts of thinkers
for the Thinker is a singular
made up of plurals
who are likewise singulars
dictated by plurals
and thus all is regulated
by thought
for thought
in the name of thought
and thought becomes purpose
as the new idol of the new religion
in the modern thinker’s world
thought now means more
than the Thinker or the thinker
because it is the source of value for both –
the Thinkers isolates the thinkers then
for sake of circulating thought
as the currency among thinkers
prescribing to the same Thinker,
leaving the thinkers outside that Thinker
penniless
when they choose to share their thoughts
with thinkers of another Thinker.
Entry VII
thoughts have formed a hierarchy
overruled by emotion
since the Thinker is the new religion
and the thinkers hold their loyalty so close to their hearts
that the worth of thoughts to the Thinkers
when they exchange thoughts with each other
determines the worth of the thinker –
limiting the exchange of thoughts
to personal attacks
or cycles of self-perpetuation
without thought
but rather with sentiment
and so
we discover a thoughtless world
where humans have no value to each other
except for how they build up the relationship
of a thinker to their Thinker
rather than by the fact alone
that they were born a thinker –
a fact which, on the contrary,
legitimizes the jeers and sneers
directed towards them
and their Thinker
why?
why all this disregard for the thinker
in favor of the Thinker?
it is just as the human places God
before himself and his fellow human
except
the human believes God loves the human while
there is no concept of the Thinker
ever loving the thinker –
when did thinking restrict itself to
forcing the thought to be worth thinking
rather than furthering the thinker?
when did it reduce the value of the thinker –
the orchestrator of the thought –
in favor of the Thinker
and the thought
together
but never apart?
it happened when misery
brought on by the excess of thought
for the sake of the progress of Thinkers
who vainly hoped to become more than thinkers
tossed aside the name
of human
because it meant that their thinking
would eventually stop
and their thoughts,
left behind for Thinkers,
would soon cease to be
they felt privileged
in their Thinker-borne tribes,
but really they wanted some excuse
to think their lives more miserable
and their purpose more pointless
than other thinkers told them they were –
so thought came to be regarded
as the highest form of being
even though
it all remained
in the head
until they let it out
and the thought of thinking
for the sake of thinking
in the hopes of purpose derived through Thinkers
overwhelmed them
and they lashed out against
those content to let thoughts be thoughts –
let thinkers be thinkers –
let Thinkers be no more than Thinkers –
and they well not let up
until those thinkers’ thoughts
become just as unthoughtful
as their own.
Entry VI 1/2
my God,
I am tired of thinking
on thoughts and Thinkers and thinkers
and things that could be more easily said
so let’s backtrack a smidge
before the thought:
before the thought,
there was nothing
but a hope –
to love and be loved –
and it was from such hope
that a beautiful monster was born
that monster
did not know there was a difference
between making meaning and meaning-making
since, like itself, that reality
seemed as two halves of one whole;
two halves may make a whole,
but this does mean that the two halves
are of equal value
though it may be implied –
implication is what creates discomfort
in meanings, in communication,
because it is the think-GAH!
OUR interpretation of where our own situation
within the greater reality
stands
if it stands at all
we hope that it stands
because we seek constant affirmation
that our thoughts line up with everyone else’s
‘cause might makes right, right?
BUZZZZ! wrong answer, bub –
might makes fight
because two magnets of opposite poles
can only come together
if
they are forced to collide from the outside
yet is there a right magnet in that case,
location notwithstanding?
Entry Nouveau
I came, I saw, I concurred –
and, by concurring, I died
from the virus of mind
called, “conformity,”
a plague with symptoms
like anxiety –
to be accepted for things
that define oneself from without
not from within –
depression –
the knowledge that there is no acceptance
because one mind exists
for but a split second
in another’s mind –
envy –
hallucinations that others
have achieved acceptance
when they themselves hallucinate
that they have been accepted –
confusion –
that accepting and acceptance
are the primary motives
for being –
and anger –
that conformity
does not grant the acceptance
that state was accepted for
the cure for conformity
and the lust for acceptance
lies in dissatisfaction
which leads to ambition –
but too much actionless ambition
leads to addiction – reliance
on preparation and safeguarding
in the hopes you may one day
accept yourself.
Entry Neuf
depression is disappointment –
the kind you feel when you wake
up and remember:
you’re only human
cursed to live a life
and that’s all –
but is all that
really that bad?
yet there are miserlings
who think and think
and by overthinking
become lost in their misery
their thinking is an excuse
for outrage when the reality is that
the more they think,
the less is done
the less is done,
the more they think
of why nothing is done
which makes life miserable
and when reduced
to that worldview
as it is accepted by miserlings
and thinkers, it is thus:
the world is cruel and meaningless
so we think to free ourselves
and give reason behind emotion
and accept each other for it
and yet isolation creeps in
because misery loves itself
as much as it loves company,
producing but one thing:
a thought –
which hurts more, in the end:
a lifetime of despair
or an instant of death?
Entry I?
‘Tis I, ‘tis I,
but who am I?
Who am I to want to die?
I hate my life
and all its neverending strife
that defines my every waking moment
-those bleeding, fleeting moments –
when mysery and mystery make
its perpetuance a lonely dance
where every step makes no sense
but is there for the sole sake of the step
my soul pines for something more
that isn’t there
but pretends to be.
Kill me!
Kill me
and take a bow for once.
- Soliloquy of the Subjectified Miserling, from the play, “All the World’s a Grave.”
Entry Nil
in creating miserlings
the thoughts worst of all
pertain of men for women
and women for men
both of which
objectify the other –
one to have an idol,
the other to be idolized –
and so the cycle of withholding,
trivializing,
dismissing each other
according to utility
useful to ourselves
rather than utility
we were born with.
answer le text?
denied.
go out for lunch?
shot down.
have le conversation,
one-on-one?
only if more people are involved
and you listen to MY problems.
Now
people can get and give attention
absolutely anywhere,
and so there’s no perceived value
in staying still for a second,
but rather
spread the wealth
that is yourself
you ass
And for some reason
they wonder why they are unhappy
just as the tree with no roots
withers in an instant
and becomes über-uglified
and is aware how ugly it is
and must cover up that ugliness
by covering itself in the twittering nests of birds
and the thievery of mangy glorified rodents, the squirrels,
while denying the voles
and the beauty of meadows
by concealing itself among other trees
to hide in a forest of rot.
Entry Shanty
No-hoes, no-hoes,
A Virgin’s life for me!
The women are nasty and their men are plain fools,
We’re better than that with no hoes.
Their lives when absorbed in sex leave them bored
Because they’ve not known no hoes!
No-hoes, no-hoes,
A Virgin’s life for me.
We scoff and denounce disappointment in flesh;
Wonder lies in chastity.
The game isn’t fun since it’s fake and we’re done,
So seal up your wee-wees, no-hoes!
No-hoes, no-hoes,
A Virgin’s life for me!
Entry V
The vole
is the regalest of creatures
simply because no one
would ever think
to attribute it as such.
The vole
Oh! Vole!
A vole in the hole is worth a mole on the face –
the beauty mark on God’s animal kingdom
and just as hairy
maybe cancerous
certainly not for everybody
but that voluptuous vole
tries not to hide it
but flaunts it like a beast
sure the wild cats
and bats
and owls
pick on that poor vole
because it is, in fact, the regalest of creatures –
and they know it.
And they know it simply because
the vole
has found its way into this poem
while they have not, except
in contrast.
So, vole! Snazzy vole. What great failure
have you in store today?
For you see the vole is glorified
in its weakness,
its victimhood,
so why should it be denied a pedestal
as far more capable
than cats and bats and owls?
Despite being a failure,
a nasty, weak little creature –
its pathetic-ness is truly
what makes the vole so great!
Hurrah, trés bien, lord vole!
Filth and trash on scampering feet!
You don’t contribute much,
And you don’t look like much,
But because you are a vole
You deserve a hip-hoorah!
All the rest deserve a stone
For not being a vole.
Holy Voley, did I just say that?
I did,
And you deserve a stone for thinking
I said it not.
Entry <=>
Failure
is not the inability
to compromise with the world
and live against it
at the same time.
Failure
is when you settle
with one of the two.
adherence to ideology,
not marriage,
is the ole ball-and-chain,
a chain-gang hammering away the railroad tracks
to Nowhere Land.
Nowhere Land,
with Maggie and the Ferocious Beast –
except Maggie grew into a Beast herself
and one of those Beasts
ate the other
for living against the world
while they compromised with it –
arguing day and night
despising each other,
though once the best of friends,
now driven apart by the externalities
dictated on society’s behalf –
until, as I said, the Ferocious Beast devoured the Ferociouser Beast
and collapsed dead from acute indigestion
because they were too ripe.
great googly-moogly,
dangerously juicy.
Entry Exit
I don’t really have a lot to say –
my sentences are just wordy.
words just kinda poor out
PPFFFFTTTTTTT!
(that was my tongue)
I’ve tried seeing a doctor for it
but he just scared me with graphs,
and I kept ruffling his feathers by asking questions.
he called me insane
INSANE!
can you believe it?
just for asking questions
and refusing to be bored
as if I was abject of resin
he said I was straight from the cuckoo’s nest
so I called him a quack
because only a regular birdbrain
thinks he can get all he needs to know
from some chart.
“sanity
is for the feeble-minded,”
I told him proudly.
so he finally answered my question
that, no,
he who is most intelligent is typically most unhappy
(ignorance is bliss, and all that jizz)
but I knew he was wrong because
he answered from irritation
and malignance
and spite for life
or at least his position in it,
none of which
enable clear judgment
and also because
the first one to answer a question is usually
the last to have the correct answer.
the moral of the story is this:
if you are diagnosed with anatatidaephobia,
you should avoid seeing a ducktor.
Entry Dingbats
❽⬥♒♋⧫ ♋ ♑♏■♓◆⬧❾
⍓□◆ ⧫♒♓■& ⬧♋❒♍♋⬧⧫♓♍♋●●⍓
⓿⑨❸⑩⑤⑥⑨⑩⑥⑤⑥⑨④⓿⑥⓿❶⑨⑤⓿⓪⑩⓿❹⓿⓪⑤⓿⑥⦸⓪⑤⓪⑤⑩
⑩⓪⑤❺⑥❶⑥❶③①❶⑩⓿⓪③⓪⓿③③⑥⓪⓿
❁■❄ ❃❏■❖❅❒▼ ❉▼ ❉■▼❏ ✴❉❍❅▲ ✮❅◗ ✲❏❍❁■
❏❒ ▲❏❍❅ ❏▼❈❅❒ ❃❏■❖❅■▼❉❏■❁● ❆❏■▼
❙❏◆ ❒❅❁●●❙ ▼❈❉■❋ ✩ ◗❁▲■▼ ❅❘❐❅❃▼❉■❇ ▼❈❁▼✟
❙❏◆ ❒❅❁●●❙ ▼❈❉■❋ ✩ ◗❁▲■▼ ❅❘❐❅❃▼❉■❇ ❙❏◆
▼❏ ❃❈❏❏▲❅ ▼❈❅ ❅❁▲❉❅▲▼ ◗❁❙ ❏❆ ❍❁❋❉■❇ ❍❅❁■❉■❇✟
❂❅❃❁◆▲❅ ▼❈❁▼▲ ❈❏◗ ❈◆❍❁■▲ ❃❈❏❏▲❅ ▼❏ ❒❅❁▲❏■
❆❏❒ ▲❏❍❅ ❒❅❁▲❏■✚
❂❙ ❇❏❉■❇ ▼❈❅ ❅❁▲❉❅▲▼ ❒❏◆▼❅✎
◗❈❁▼❅❖❅❒ ❉▲ ❅❁▲❉❅❒
□■ ⧫♒♏ ❍♓■♎
□■ ⧫♒♏ ♌□♎⍓
□■ ⧫♒♏ ♒♏♋❒⧫
⧫♒♋⧫❼⬧ ♑□⧫⧫♋ ♌♏ ❒♓♑♒⧫ ❒♓♑♒⧫✍
♋■♎ ⬧□ ⍓□◆ ♍□■❖♏❒⧫♏♎ ❍⍓ ✋☠☝✋☠☝✌☹✋☠☝
did you?
▼❒❙❉■❇ ▼❏ ❍❁❋❅ ❍❅❁■❉■❇
◗❈❅❒❅ ▼❈❅❒❅ ❉▲ ■❏■❅
❏❒ ◗❈❅❒❅✌ ❅❖❅■ ❉❆ ❉▼ ❅❘❉▲▼▲✌
❉▼ ❈❁❒❄●❙ ❍❁▼▼❅❒▲
❂❅❃❁◆▲❅ ▼❈❏◆❇❈▼ ❉▲ ●❅▲▲ ▼❈❁■ ❁❃▼❉❏■
❁■❄ ❁●● ❙❏◆ ❄❏ ❉■ ❁ ❐❏❅❍
❉▲ ▲◆❐❐●❅❍❅■▼ ❙❏◆❒ ❏◗■ ▼❈❏◆❇❈▼▲
❸⓪⓿⑩⑥④⑥⑤③⑩⑩●
⑤①❶⑩⓿❺⑥❶⑦③⓿❶③⑥⑤⑥⑤⑩⑤⑩
❸⓪⓿⑨⓪⓪❶③⑥⑨⑩⑩⑨⓿
❺⑩⑩⑦⑤⓿⑥❶⑨⑩❸⑨⓪⓿⓪⑤⑦⑥④
①❶⑩⓿⓿⑥⑨❺❺⑥❶
but writing is action
while reading is thinking another person’s thoughts.
Entry I Revisited
I wrote inside this journal –
At least, that’s what I thought.
But, under closer inspection,
These words aren’t what I wrought.
Their meanings make no sense to me
With hostility abound –
I feel like what’s said here is supposed to be stupid
Yet can’t help but come off profound.
My mind has wandered yet again –
The proof is in the print –
Or, has it really? I second guess
This diary’s still in mint
Since thoughts and thinkers have run rogue
And foul up all they can,
I wager they’ve robbed my diary, too,
Reducing my script to margins.
While voices I do not recognize
Scrawl entries I can’t recall,
My diary keeps on nagging me:
“Was I really yours at all?”
Morning's Early Dark 