There are those two things.
Corinthian columns Standing on either side of one another, facing the eastern wall behind then, or rather in front of them because they have their backs towards me so i am facing the same direction. They rise illustriously above my head and have stood since aliens created earth-life by an accidental engine explosion over the bubbling primordial ooze. They silently suggest that everything has two sides to it, or that things in general are different from one another. At least, it would seem to say that truth is many-faceted. But, the experience of seeing the columns, no matter what I decide to say about seeing them, is a thing indivisible and unimaginably soft. This fact I take with me when considering either of the edifices. Supposedly, all is one… The column with the big J on it is probably bullshit, while the one with a B engrained into it, I prefer. I know their is no difference and yet I irrationally favor one over the other. I fit nicely into this puzzle, though I am myself the one sent to solve it. I am outside of all this, detached while appreciating that I am inside it as well, and therefore choose which column to stand closest too.
I must conclude from this absurdity that neither columns exist, and that I am not looking at anything at all. I am not even a point of view, though I use my point of view to deny my nonexistence and exert my ego. I am not, even as I exclaim so with a mouth that obviously is. I might have done better to explain the point of this by saying nothing. Thinking nothing might be impossible, but that is because it is not possible to not exist, and therefore makes those who attempt to think of nothing gradually become full of pretentious bullshit. Either that, or he finally shuts the hell up.
the story goes that a man was walkin down a walkin path and came across another man sittin under a tree. The walkin man said to the sittin man, (in his Chinese accent) “what are you doing?” to which the sittin man made no reply. The walkin man repeated his question a few times but it was no use, the sittin man did nothing, as was his practice in these parts of the world. So, having a place to go and a schedule to keep, the walkin man went on his way, but he thought of the unrememberable encounter for many years. One day, after a lifetime of walkin many places with many people in search of many things, his back gave out, and he could walk no more. His family and friends abandoned him and he became a beggar living on what bread strangers would allow him. He never met the sittin man, but often wondered what he would have said to him if they had met again.
A man who could be Santa Claus ascends the podium
Meant to bring us bow-tied wrapped up cubes but left them home
May Christ guide his sleigh back in this merely anticipated place
Visited in leaps of years, but left occupied by talking heads with no need for food
Moving in the inedible manner of a slow motion action movie scene
For a moment in the still dark morning, I thought my prayers were answered when I discerned the fuzzy outline of a flying something in the sky. Then I panicked… Had a cruel creator turned my wish upon me? For perhaps he was too conservative. My eyes failed me, I could not tell whether a cloud blocked the craft or I was simply and anxiously hallucinating. Then a trumpet sounded through the sunrise and it was certain…that he would consider.
My counterpoint pass above me as I hold the bass
And the sleigh never lands.
Pity. Apparently Christmas is required urgently in new jersey
more so than this tundra of disease, a disease that kills in four to eight years.
In which time the populace would erect a new golden calf if they have not yet perished from the earth.