this really is not hard. to appear in obscurity. drifting silently behind the shadows in the dark.
last night there was indeed a game of poker, a game of substance built upon the metaphor of cards.
i said there would and it was and will always be, and why?
Why?
(with a great stillness in a beating silent heart) Because i have it forever and it will be.
Does one pay attention and notice the little things? The words, the pictures, the scenes?
People have the memories, the pictures, the words. They experience so much and yet do they truly notice?
A yellow jacket for example. A drone busy seeking that of which brings survival for their nest. A nest destroyed along with their queen, and yet there is the call to survive even if to hover above the empty scene until succumbing to what will be. Did anyone notice the vibrations that carry the small insect, the unseen vibration of placement, a life so obvious and sweet.
When God plays poker the words used are actually like a cheap form of paint scrawled upon an ancient surface of concrete. Easy to see. Easy to read. Easy to understand and yet underneath the words painted, the thickness of ancient and timeless concrete…there exists the light of vibration, it is there where poker is played on God’s table. And yes, for most, a bit strange and for some it bring in the childish feeling of love and respect, at least it is that way for me.
Yes indeed. So easy to notice and feel and in many ways so hard to explain.
Therefore, without any hesitation or doubt I, (me) can say with absolute certainty… I am the luckiest form of Life of which has ever existed or will ever be. You see, with full realization it is most wonderful to try and beat God at God’s game all the while laughing and smiling; noticing absolutely all and every…wonderful…special…eternal…good/bad..pure/evil… the vibrations…the music…
Yes. i notice, and it is all beautiful indeed.
(and even more wonderful is that once God let me win a hand for reasons far beyond my ability of comprehension, and i prefer it that way)
There became the seen and the unseen, the living and the dead. With a sun rising above a scene unseen ever before with so many eyes no longer left to see.
In the time of years and centuries, great clocks once rang proud around the world. London once had a clock with the patriarch name, Big Ben; sounds now silently locked away in memories no longer alive.
War. A battle of kinetic force waged with great spiritual intensity. Waves of vibration unleashed to combine the music of death with reality. War. What it was good for was the day after.
No longer would the tick-tock sound announce mankind’s travel through days, no longer would fields be plowed and planted in Spring weather and crops harvested in late Summer providing food for those long dark Winter days.
Yesterday there was war. Such a grand war if anyone were left alive to give such a grand title to such a grand scheme. War of light and dark, hot and cold. War of absolute totality.
Even today, the day after the silence now replaced the horror of death and screams. Even today it was quickly becoming impossible to believe such a war could have ever taken place. Impossible maybe if humanity was still alive to give such a statement. It was for an absolute certainty there was no life visible. No insects, no birds, fish, beast.
In the days of old, the days of the humanity, of kings and queens. In those days there was much activity. Animals slaughtered for the feast, grains grown for breads and animal feed. There were nets cast to catch the silvery scaled fins of the sea. So much opulence just regarding what it was that the living inhabitants needed. Those were the old days, today, the day after, it was a special day.
For in a world old, a world given labels of time numbering years in the billions, the world had endured wars of gods, of nature, of time. Cosmic disasters. Biological disease. Alien corruptions carried by comets trying to give seed. An old world used to life/death and everything in between.
So yes, today, the day after was indeed special as buried deep in a cave there did exist life, a life already creeping into the darkness focused upon reality.
Deep in the cave there carried vast reservoirs of pure untainted water. There existed the recent moldering bodies of those survivors now recently deceased. There were piles of preservation of food stocks sealed and unbroken; ready to eat.
Small feet make for small sounds with the chittering/clicking sound now the only language alive on this dead world as even in the deepest canyons of the deepest oceans not even the whale sounds existed or the snapping sounds of crabs now rotting in their shells no longer a home to life.
Indeed, the scene of the day after seemed hopeless for a world now left with dead tides, dead air, dead plants, trees… And yet, there in the cave their crawled a survivor already neck deep in the opulent feast.
All hail the survivor, the day after, the feast! All hail the egg laden cockroaches left to tame the new world on this, the new day!
A spider or frog has my faith. I know what a spider will do. I know what a frog will do. I can hope that people will be kind/loving/considerate (and all the rest of the mumbo jumbo) though as for having ‘faith’ in such a horrible species…ABSOLUTELY NOT!
Humans kill and abuse their own children.
Humans kill all goodness.
Humans are so evil they killed their own God…
Only two good humans were ever ‘born’. Mary the mother of Jesus and Jesus. The rest are just playthings for evil.
Never.
EVER.
trust or have faith in living maggot food called, humans/people.
Far into a ‘future’ from a place called home, technology in fashion changed.
No longer would one have to purchase cloth or clothing or food or, or, or.
Or what? What else could this mean?
What is knowledge? For Adam and Eve the knowledge that they were naked caused them to blush and realize the knowledge that has no place in paradise.
Imagine: Wearing the finest clothing fit for a king. Silks. Wools. Cottons. If today you could see you would be in awe and amazed!
While dressed in such fine attire while eating such wonderful food, and, and, and.
And what? Or is this what is meant?
You see…
Ah yes, you ‘see’. You feel, you touch, smell, and know what you see…Or do you? What? Do you really see?
In the future the knowledge will be there, the knowledge to be truly naked while standing tall wearing nothing but the body/spirit and knowing real peace.
To know you can look or taste or feel all while remaining serene,
and that most excellent ability/realization
To be alive and be whatever, wear whatever and lose yourself almost totally…
What? Almost? Totally!
You see, in the future of this will come real reality. To embrace the naked truth totally without ‘almost’ or ‘see’. To experience everything all while in a perfect paradise free of the serpent and slave master, free of a world enslaved.
“The General Surgeon of the United States has deemed the consumption of kitchenware to be a serious health hazard. It is strongly recommended that all travelers avoid eating local dishes and instead stick with real food. Eating dishes has been proven to cause massive digestive damage and wreak holy hell on the rectum.”
This public service warning has been brought to you because there are many democrats that believe it is okay to eat dishes.
Items and objects; material in a non material means.
As a high class hoarder (genetic gift) I have traveled this world and admired/acquired many ‘things’. Things of normality and things of non-belief.
Items ranging from a kiss from God to a set a bull elk antlers found at a dumpsite. Items. Things. Memories.
What does this mean? A sickness? A disease? Dragons are known to collect and covet gold while in my laughter knowing they truly collect other things…
“What is it worth?” asked by those coming to my gallery and wondering. The reply, “Whatever it is one wants to pay.” Pay being a dollar or a curse, maybe a blessing or a sneeze. Value is whatever it means.
Lately I have been selling/casting away/throwing away things while attaining a deeper meaning and treasure from the experiences as the dust after years is blown away.
The pictures above are of a stool. A wooden stool of very little monetary value yet hold a story deep and rich as any item can be.
No, the stool is not the crown for the King of England nor a bit coin, which no one can see. It is a memory, a collection, a story. It is today and tomorrow and the next of next until it is yesterday; one of my favorite things.
The story: As an avid collector of anything NOT made of gold…(yuck, cosmic shit if anyone were to ask me) I bid on fifteen chairs being sold by a police department. The police in the small town had just buildt a new station with new cells, new windows, new carpet, new, new, new, so out with the old things.
Online auctions, a place where one can sit naked and sip whiskey while bidding on absolutely anything. Navy aircraft carrier screw shafts weighing more than a semi truck fully loaded. A submarine. A most wonderful and amusing distraction to enjoy while being hundreds of miles away.
On this auction of fifteen chairs, I won. My high bid was $10.00. 10.00 + 6% sales tax+ 10% commission (you do the earth math) and the chairs were mine.
What kind of chairs come to mind when reading this? Office chairs? Metal chairs? Obviously the wooden stool must have been one.
Off with the invoice in my hand, a truck full of corgi’s and a wife rolling her eyes and wondering if maybe there might be a cure for my obsessions. (lucky there is no cure, only relief)
Arriving at the new police station the directions further given were to an old shipping dock located in another part of town.
Pulling up in the truck it was a new adventure trying to find the gnomes in charge of the multiple manmade caves holding all sorts of ‘things’, things to include my newly purchased chairs.
The head gnomes eyes gleamed and in true gnome fashion laughed when seeing me. His friend came in from the dark and he too, laughed. (Gnomes have a unique sense of fashion and humor)
With the formalities out of the way and the minor social verbal tests given and passed, the chairs were released. Chair after chair after chair. Ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty. Fifty two chairs were now mine. Chairs of every sort and style. Years of abandoned chairs. One chair actually was covered in faux leopard skin.
The chairs completely filled a 24′ flatbed trailer and the truck pulling it. The wife had eyes either filling with tears of joy or tears of sorrow. The corgi’s were just excited there were some gnomes to torture instead of the usual elves.
Fifty two chairs. A full load. A lot of strange looks driving back home. And once back at home there were calls to friends to be made. A LOT of chairs needed new homes.
Currently as I type this I’m sitting in a very large office chair that was a part of the goods. A wonderful chair and very comfortable and also fireproof. It had to be as I left it next to the heater and instead of bursting into flames, it just melted a little.
And now, the stool. As soon as i saw this stool i fell in love with it. And why? An old, ancient device a man once spent years sitting upon?
Look closely and see for yourself. The screws were of the old guild as were the square nuts. The wood from a tree long ago important and still sporting that importance today.
Look at the vibrant colors heralding the owner of the stool. Notice the scars of life given and taken during the duration of the legs sitting firmly upon stability while chaos unfolded around it.
Yes, there is definitely more to this story. Maybe one day i will write more of this little stool, a stool worth more than money or words, a stool that will always make me smile.
