I used to play ant and houseflies, swath a bunch of flies with a broom and wait for ants to find them and watch them return a larger number to pick up the fly, and I make up these stories doing voices over their frenzy "'come on, we've got a huge one, ungh -(nasally) the last time we ate fly was the spring of 64, -Yeah pick up your side you are slacking, I'm not ... you are always slacking, and you could just tell the most enthused one running skelter.
And under the carton drum they'd go, encircled in the convivial and just like that, I'd gabe switch in the mood and dip my fingers into a bottle of kerosene and proceed to send down napalm, chemical poison and decimate an entire ant colony, Remorseless, laughing you should hear me then, ahhhaahhh I'd impress
get tired and sweep up the pungent carnage and think of better things to do.
I was simply playing God, what puny ant could question me? So it makes me laugh when I see these guys conduct prayer to God, challenging him, shouting at him and almost goading him so to speak. If you are know you are God manifest yourself in my life, "What the fuck do you think you are?" A nothing like you
Would an ant ever think of being my son, that's how nonsensical anthropomorphism is to me. To claim that you are a son of God, it's quite presumptuous, in a sense then we are all sons of God, lions, seals, turtles everything emanates from him, but the ridiculousness that vet our destruction is something in need of mental evaluation.
in a way, I must think that was what God thought of us, ants struggling for flies in your entire world is underneath a carton drum but boy are you eager. In your pillage of the planet and bloated lifestyle, maybe we all were simply struggling for flies and it's the greed that make ants feel oh suddenly two flies would drop dead in such proximity and it was kosher. A reasoning on their part would think of a bigger game afoot, the fly led me to their camp without that greed they would have made do with grains of rice drops of sugar and lived fine, In the same way, it's our meat consumption that lead ultimately to our destruction, the meat increase our crave for sex, procreation and profligate proliferation, which inevitably affects the planet pumped up in the Abrahamic religion backed greed as ethos.
On Railways, bicycles, books, backyard farms and ipods. The human would disintegrate into nature while alive he will mesh into the vista, his activities would strewn into the vegetation and become weal for him.
It's the devil's excrement that oil, that scrape that is the problem no man who wanders could never hurt the planet quietly listening to music lying crosslegged cloud under feet in a rice field, it's the cars, the marble, tile, the couch, the unsustainable the demonic and that has set us up for devolution
and it's our plunge via the alimentary towards the animal that hinder us from being the true custodian of nature firm, plain God.
But it's a climb, simple as that before you can change from the ant into the remorseless child, you must read, improve yourself and change your nature from animal to man. Sometimes I think of the civil rights movement and how different I would have done it all, Transcendence and Intelligence berating black Young men about liberties trying to explain your transcendence and all they are thinking is how they want to fuck you.
Try explaining transcendence of your humanity to a dog, in a way that's how to understand the ignorant blocked headedness of the black people, so ignorant to the potential they posses, it makes them envious and bitter and you keep pointing at the book saying read this, its everything or listen to this but they can't, they are ants.
God is a frequency, a lot of us are born into the animal frequency, hunger and attention, the crave until you start finding comfort in music and books and find that everything in the world was already inside you
Reading sutras every night I get my doses of DMT, I can peruse my life as pixels of the past dropping in droplets of images from my pineal gland, overstanding and I'm talking 4 to 5 hours of relentless nerve wracking read, and it helps you, I have seen my life, seen my strife, seen it twice, I wake up completely content unenthused and calm. I couldn't find the verve for money, sex or society, I found God and he is me.
You tend to love everything, feel sorry for strife anywhere you see it and they struggle over a contrived wrong diet, wrong way of life, wrong ethos.
Try explaining transcendence of your humanity to a dog, in a way that's how to understand the ignorant blocked headedness of the black people, so ignorant to the potential they posses, it makes them envious and bitter and you keep pointing at the book saying read this, its everything or listen to this but they can't, they are ants.
God is a frequency, a lot of us are born into the animal frequency, hunger and attention, the crave until you start finding comfort in music and books and find that everything in the world was already inside you
Reading sutras every night I get my doses of DMT, I can peruse my life as pixels of the past dropping in droplets of images from my pineal gland, overstanding and I'm talking 4 to 5 hours of relentless nerve wracking read, and it helps you, I have seen my life, seen my strife, seen it twice, I wake up completely content unenthused and calm. I couldn't find the verve for money, sex or society, I found God and he is me.
You tend to love everything, feel sorry for strife anywhere you see it and they struggle over a contrived wrong diet, wrong way of life, wrong ethos.
You wonder how lofty Lady Gaga or Jay z feel? Well, climb up through read and you will get here. The ability to allow the love that watches and the sacrifice that wait is the buoy of the lofty mind. Renunciation a very simple thing but very hard to our egos, with earpiece, we maintain the psychic homeostasis
walking naked,facing the wall, stillness allowing time pass you by are some of the exercise of playing God that litter the work and understanding of Marina Abrahamovic.
For us, without such monetary backed leisure, it is a to focus on the muddy work of the overpsyche, knowing that it must have a limit, being patient and sieving through the tress of the crude, convinced that the universe can be found in every atom.
And they couldn't hurt you, in their angst they end up serving you, imagine when you are calm and all you need was 1 thousand naira to get through the day, and someone in a bid to deceive you offers you 2 thousand so you chase 10, laughing at your planned loss not knowing he already gave you twice of what you wanted,
that is hatred way of serving you, Being calm, patient the entire world becomes your play thing, everything lives to serve you, every wants to be noticed by you, everything accentuates to be recognized by you, and you don't care, You couldn't care, you have done it all before and can not be impressed.
Imagine how I felt the next time I swath a fly or two just for fun, underneath the same carton drum they called home, I opened it saw the verve the feeding frenzy and was immediately so bored.
I could kill them if I wanted, I just need to allow them this time, they'll be gone in a week or two and that again is how I think God thinks of us, a 100 year of our life is merely a second to him and still we think we can impress or command him? Hmm.
Thor depressed, fat and eating a ham burger will not stop me from him being a god, We are playing God in sacrifice, asceticism, waiting, knowing that nothing money buys lasts,I look at people I couldn't get what the fuss was about, people just running about, hurtling after sand I couldn't find a kindred spirit.
To the books, the music and movies, to the sums of differed strife, reliving by the hour what others have gone ahead to prove that nothing is here and nothing will ever be here. From the Great Gatsby, to Discography of Bob Marley, all of life is meaningless,
you are just roiling in forget, you will find out where we are saying either today or at the point of death, you were the ant you were the struggling, At the end, both you and your fickle flies are under a carton drum.
e5
you are just roiling in forget, you will find out where we are saying either today or at the point of death, you were the ant you were the struggling, At the end, both you and your fickle flies are under a carton drum.
e5