What do you think of this?
A man sits down at a typewriter, and pours his heart out; leaking every truth that he had ever come into contact with. A few days later, he tries desperately to get it published " no one has the time of day for that kind of piece. How would the people react if they found out that their entire lives are lies…that everything they know; just isn’t so? They must’nt find out. Last time was close. It’s drivel for the masses and magnum opi for the masters.
A woman sings, and she sings, and she sings…finally finding that hidden note that opens the path to the collective dream of mankind " unity, love, knowledge. She wrote a song and she sung out her soul. Too out of control; can’t play that sort of stuff on here. The boss told me I’m out if I play conscious music again. It’s discordant disasters produced by madmen for the masses and orchestras for the controllers. I mean, our schedule is pretty booked up; you would’ve had to get it to us by May 1st 1776.
Illumi-a-what? Never heard of ‘em mister! I just wanted to write the next 1984/BNW…I didn’t mean to discover this tapestry of deceits stemming from every direction! Alas, this savage knows his place. Do you? I mean, have you ever really thought about it? What you really are? Think! Think! Think! Io Pan! I mean Think! You are something whose magnitude you could not fathom; even with the greatest map man has ever drawn (and I don’t mean that quack Frater Perdurabo). What if the secret of secrets was right in front of your nose? Would you smell it? Would you even care?
Lightning round! Who are you? Did you answer with where you work? Did you think of a location; with some nice things? Are you really these things? No! You are you and I am I; but I am you and you are I. It’s why I know that even though you’re sighing right now (not sure whether you’re reading the ravings of a mad man, or the fourth incarnation of Thoth) that you are deeply intrigued by the words on this page. Otherwise, you would have stopped reading by now. Stop reading. Did you stop? Would you ever let someone, that you’ve never met, tell you what to do - like that? No? Then why do you obey, every single day - you stare at that damned screen and don’t question a thing?!
So why are we here? What are we alive for? Why must we suffer? I don’t know, man; I didn’t do it. Or did I? Or was it you? Maybe it was us when we were I? I couldn’t tell you why you’re here because I wouldn’t presume to know your true will without ever even meeting you. I could tell you lies; storybooks full. The most beautiful deceits a man can buy! But are they really going to comfort you as you die? No! The truth will set you free. Once you’re free, you’ll in turn want to save me. I’ll in turn want to save you. But who can we really save besides ourselves? It’s good to have the desire, it means you’re on the right track. But you must realize - the more you force someone against their will; the more karmic bitch slaps you have in line. That’s why the true masters never get their hands dirty.
Power? You want real power? Then embrace the cloak and the dagger. He who is seen to have ultimate power is, in fact, powerless; because everyone knows that they harbor strength. But he who is seen to have no power, in truth, is capable of the greatest power man has ever known. Don’t worry too much about status. Don’t worry about what others think " most people couldn’t tell you what MK Ultra or Operation Mockingbird was. They’d probably look at you funny if you told them; maybe even tell you to lay off the Alex Jones, and take off your tinfoil hat. But, alas, the truth is a tinfoiler’s wet dream and the schemes of those mysterious keepers of secrets is nothing short of the Great Work. The Great Work? I wouldn’t worry about it, brother.
Maybe I should be taking this more seriously. Wouldn’t want to be called a conspiracy theorist or some other thought terminating cliché (popularized by the CIA). That’d be like social suicide and I really want people to like me. But I don’t even like myself. I hide it well though. I buy things and I drink. I work a job, that I hate, to buy things, that I don’t need, to impress people I don’t like…isn’t there another way? Middle path? What is that some kind of cult? Well, I’m sure Tavistock has something cooked up to fit that criteria; but it hardly applies to my philosophy " to my BS (belief system). BS? Belief Systems shouldn’t be taken too seriously; nothing should. Now, is the Sun a golden apple or a star? Which answer made you smile more? What do you think is more important? Being right or being happy? This question will reveal more about you than you may ever realize.
Name names? I don’t know ‘em, Jack. Got rid of mine too. It was itchin’ me; so I adopted a moniker, and called it a day. Just call me Master Savage 22; but that won’t make much sense until we get to the tarot. The fool is the 0th and 22nd card because the wheel numbers 23 but is only 22. Round and round she goes; where she stops nobody knows! Dharma? I preach it but I don’t pretend to know it. You shouldn’t either. God isn’t meant to be a tool to help you sleep at night, either. You pervert everything sacred and desecrate everything holy! Rome never fell - get that thought out of your head. Didn’t you ever wonder why the saints could be lined up with the Roman pantheon? Didn’t you ever wonder what really happened to Miley Cyrus or why celebrities like Paul McCartney are so important that imposters aren’t out of the question? This story is older than Babylon, but where do we start?!
“Honey, it’s late. Couldn’t you finish this tomorrow?” She said, solemnly.
“I know, I know…but this is important!” he replied, with a passion that she hadn’t seen in years. “This means something!”
“Right…well, I’m going to bed…you should hurry up,” she said with a smile and a wink.
So let’s take it back. Let’s take it back to Osiris and his brother Set. Set once furnished a box in the exact shape of Osiris and tricked him into getting into it; only to chop him up into 14 pieces and scatter him across the land. Osiris’ sister-wife Isis turned into a bird and collected everything except, you guessed it, his wangdangdoodle. Isis, not being the type to give up on her man, created a golden dildo and went to town on her eunuch mummified brother-husband. After a few incredible orgasms…and 9 months…Osiris is reborn in Horus. Why am I telling you this seemingly silly story from an aeon that most people consider primitive and “uneducated”? Because the Obelisk is a symbol of Osiris’ cock…and it’s in your capitol. Have you ever really wondered why? Maybe you’re just a brother in The Craft that never made it passed the 3° (and most don’t). But a filthy mundane, like me, wouldn’t know anything about that, would I?
The not-so-secret secrets are hidden in our everyday lives. We just tend to ignore them for more exciting and enticing stimuli. And thus, they collect in our unconscious; like so many boxes of technology and information that does not exist. The truth? I can’t tell you the truth. You’d never believe me. But maybe if I spell it out for you…maybe if I spill my guts and bare my soul; you’ll finally understand. Maybe you’ll finally see the heavenly father that is waiting for us to notice his infinite splendor? Perhaps that is just gnostic gibberish…and this wretched place is really what we make it. But if the world is what we make it…why did we make it into this? It’s like a nightmare I can’t wake up from; we pave over Green Pastures and fill in the Pierian Springs " to build what we never needed (and if madmen didn’t have a say; never even wanted in the first place).
The divine ultimate truth is hidden in the everyday clichés that we’re sick of saying, but can’t quite stop repeating. That sublime, seemingly unattainable, fantasy that we all cling to so desperately. Understanding that the difference between death, itself, and relinquishing your dreams is but naught at all! Let all men know this and all women remember it. It was no lie when Christ said “the Kingdom of Heaven is within you” " but it may as well have been; for the masses have not heard, and he that has ears is in the minority. He be mocked and derided by the blind; decreeing themselves the seer of all truths " but it is only ego that they see, with their Dogma entitled unfalsifiable hypothesis.
“Well…are you coming?” a breathy voice asked from the staircase.
“No. But I will be soon,” he replied with a grin. She giggles and retreats back upstairs, as he presses ctrl+S, shuts the laptop screen and heads upstairs; himself. Chuckling, he thinks, “I should have never shown her my illustrated copy of the Kama Sutra.”