Froopy Addendums

As hapless magicians bumble about in reckless confusion, we stand at before the abyss of our own uncertain future, unconvinced of our eternal infinite power. The deluge of nonsense must be overwhelming before anyone cares to mention we are drowning in our own debauchery. Still, amidst the bells and whistles of modern living, it could be argued that our wanton wastefulness is merely a phase in a series of phases that compromise the entirety of existence.

Really Bad Poem (with excruciatingly earnest intentions)

Lush is this textured trilobite
Amidst the glazed sunset
Love comes at the speed of light
And its good as it can get

Flush is more of what's not enough
Adrift in a haze of desire
Fulfillment is made of such stuff
Such a daze cannot acquire

Hush the world of reckless fervor
Absorbed with trivialities
Love comes at the speed of light
And forms everything we sees

"Wert thou more fickle than the restless sea,
Still should I love thee, knowing thee for such"
- William Morris (1834–1896)

Tiny Bubbles

Nary a fleeting moment goes by without some kind of judgment or assessment clouding our perception of reality as it truly is. This ability to 'color our world' with personal preference is the source of much consternation as far as our fellow human beings are concerned. Oh, folks talk about morality, standards of acceptability, values, blah, blah, blah, but the bottom line is that it all involves separating oneself from that which one perceives. Doesn't it just make sense that what one is experiencing is inherently a part of said individual's life, regardless of what mental calisthenics one engages to say "I am not that, and that is not me". Of course, what person wants to face the horrifying truth of either (A) All is one.,(B) All one sees is a direct reflection of who one is., (C) We are self-centered comfort-seekers regardless of the cost to our fellow planet dwellers, or (D) Chaos reigns and the illusions we create are far better than the true nature of things.

Kicking and a' gouging in the mud and the blood and the beer.

Poised to engage, we stand unfettered in our waking challenge. This world, seemingly tangible in our perception suits, is more akin to a house of mirrors than a rock flying around a giant ball of fire. Still, you can't have a roller coaster ride without a roller coaster, thus this is.

Often enough, we rise up through the rabbit hole rather than descend in our attempts to enlighten our dull wits rather than merely rattle them. Although these forays bring us useful information, the result leads us to the inescapable conclusion that one is either in or out, and there is not much play in that. If one is in, one strives to be out. If one is out, well... who knows? As a confirmed "innie", I am defined by my presence hereabouts.

Therefore, what not and where for become as valid as exacting scientific procedures insofar as ultimate meaning to our wriggling. The comfort of our perception suits is a means and an end in this scenario.