A notebook bulletin board
tacked on when randomly bored
applied thoughts in a scribblebook
open for the world to look who passes by
so fast to see like a needle in a haystack we
safely stash those innermost secrets thought to be
at least you see languishing up and into pristine
blossoms for you to pick and sniff and hope
they don't make you sick.



A Study In Irony As Prison Bars
Keeping Us From Being Free

When we demonize our subjects, we rob them of the very humanity that made them so monstrous in the first place.

When we take care to humanize them, we begin the painstaking process of isolating, and therefore possibly removing, that which has the potential to become demonic in us.

By refusing to humanize murderers, tyrants, and despots—we set up the circumstances by which their histories become repeated.

This refusal to face and accept humanity's dark side is what I consider to be the apotheosis of the "demonic" itself, for it is the very foundation which allows the demonic in us to grow.

It is the very force which allows the cycle to repeat itself, unhindered.

The day we humanize our most notorious evildoers is the very day we put our demons on trial. So long as they remain demonized—they are free to cycle through us eternally.

Those demons would vanish into thin air if we owned up to our humanity, making the need to punish or imprison them an entirely moot point.

Instead, they need to be banished—as any proper demon deserves.

But in order to do that, it would be necessary to do away with our superstition.


Dear Number

Think of the Internet
as a gigantic, all-encompassing

that may have been
designed for one purpose
yet certainly was implemented
for another

the mandated decree
that its sociomagnetism
be carefully directed
towards an all-too compliant

to keep us
entrapped in
this prison
of disinformation

Make no mistake about it
There's no room for conspiracy, here

This all developed naturally
at an organic pace
fed by our own

We created the Internet
to trap ourselves

The manifestation
of our psychowar
appears all too real

Just take a look around

Those micro-devices
everyone's fingertapping into
Magnetic plumb bobs
chrome lures

This line and tackle bait
fully swallowed
keeps its users
hooked after
being digested

You better believe we eat it right up

So this \m/AGNE⊥
people call it a prison
under construction

I think of it as a Church
obviously, there's no difference

We're trying to build a prison
(there is no They)
and we're succeeding

Because this is the real Church
The Thing that holds us in thrall
while we practice our ablutions
from the point of view
of a first person shooter

Because we are all information addicts
These words can not be read by anyone else
nor could they be penned by anyone else

The act of writing itself
is the very definition
of this imprisonment

We are all addicts and prisoners, here
While this is literally, in fact, the case
very few manage to escape this place

Of the few that do
nothing can really be said

This is not about them
It is about some folk
responsible for maintaining
the continued construction
of the information prisoncell
equivalent of an underground
railway out of here

One of the keys toward escaping
the prison is first becoming
a functional part of it

This key we all start out with
it's a given we've been imprisoned
all our lives

It's another thing altogether
having to admit it, however
That's why an overwhelming
majority of the populace
will never get to use it

The first key will usually rust
in a pocket

Good thing there's more keys
They're just harder to find

Life is like any prison environment
Factions, cliques, and gangs
become unavoidable

a perfect example of how mentality
can be more inescapable
than mere prison walls

To attempt to break out of the Church
is an attempt to break out of a mentality

To accomplish this, one must normally
acknowledge that thinking itself
stands in the way of revelation

That is why this is not a thought

It's a gesture

A file of letters

Handle with care

It cuts both ways

A track with rails

A car with handles

A letter of files

I saw a way out

You can too

Promise one thing

Try not to misunderstand me

and I'll see you out there

Outside these prison walls