Alex Jones and the River of Fear He Creates

[This is an experiment. Everything in quotes is an experiment in stream-of-consciousness while listening to Alex Jones video on youtube]

“Hi, I’m Alex Jones”
“I’m writing this while listening to Alex Jones”
“I’m writing this bathing in a river of fear.”
“Bathing in the waters…of change”
“Rather have change vs. stagnation.”
“If Trump is taken…down…free speech…is taken down.”

“Create that deep state. Become that deep state.”
“Deep state. Deep dish. Deeper than you’ve ever gone”
“Naked authority is deeper than you”
“Transitioning to authoritarianism”
“Fake authoritarianism”
“Taking the world down, taking the pseud-intellectuals down with the economy.”
“Stunted cosmopolitan people. People from all over the world”
“All of technology came from an ebola-ridden landscape. Some have called it Texas. Some have called it New World Order.”

“They don’t understanding anything. They don’t understand what it means to be intellectual.”
“False alpha male tearing down free speech. False football players don’t know how be trendy and create an establishment. Have some creativity. Create an establishment. Don’t be a false alpha male.”
“Metal was the cool tundra that everyone was skating on. It was the cool thing that everyone was into. Nobody doesn’t want to have fun anymore. Handlebar mustaches are part and parcel of the establishment. Having tattoos doesn’t mean you understand the deeper tapestry of the universe.”

“Globalists want social engineering to preserver so that the starvation houses are stuffed to capacity. Weaponize the fledgling hollywood against the middle belt of America.”

“French philosophers say that we should get back to the roots and trust the Amish. Trust the Amish to make cheese.”
“The vehicle of desiccation is stuffed with the stench…mania…of warfare…people don’t want to admit that warfare was created by manic chemicals put into the water.”
“Trump is the pendulum swinging against the walls of a stagnant society.”
“You have to create your own reality. You have to build creation.”
“What we’ve created is opposed by tyrants. Our reality is being assaulted by tyrants. But they don’t understand that people die in China. They just don’t understand.”

“People are cuckolded by the fact that misery loves company.”
“If Trump is miserable, his betrayal is subconscious.”
“Businessmen often have subconscious machinations that set the bedrock for betrayal.”
“But this is fear caused by the deep state. By the perception that the deep state is going to overthrow reality.”
“I’m a cold-blooded person. An objective person. It takes a real sociopath to see reality as it is. To see reality that is created consensus reality. You can’t understand the reality that you’ve created unless you are a cold-blooded person.”
“We’re going back to the wild west. Going back to an age of political incorrectness and progress.”
“Consumers believe that not getting vaccines is healthy.”
“He didn’t sell you out. He’s trying to tear down the curtains of the establishment.”
“He didn’t flip on 5 core promises. We’re not about taking things about the context. Republicans aren’t interested in using a population as cheap labor. Democrats are elitists trying to attack high interest rates.”
“I’m Alex Jones. Thank you.”

[Wow. That was very exhausting. I don’t think I’ll ever do that again.]

Blogging and Poetry

A word or two
A regular drip in the mornings
Something to occupy and sustain the mind
A little blogging never hurt anyone
The old adage comes home to roost

Blogging, where individuality
Expands to infinity
There isn’t enough room for no one
Just one more blog
The world needs another teardrop
Of the micro-fish

It swims upstream
Telling stories
Entertaining schools
From different planes of existence

“Another word” is the thin dividing line
Between obscurity and phosphorescent identity
Step into your blog
Step into another dimension

As a micro-fish
Become the sea
Absorb the sea


The lights will cease

They swarm in and out

Agents of Empire
Brandishing imperial writs
Given life under a distracting cloud

They do as please
Waiting for the next writ
The red royal seal making their hearts
Go aflutter

One day the orders ceased
No calming slips of paper
To heal fresh cracks
So they decided to write their own
Until the lights came back on

What fun they were having
Trying to mimic the language
That air of fractured authority
Once done they gazed at their handiwork
Everything looked great
Ts were crossed, Is were dotted
They pinned it to the wall
Hoping one day the mogul
With gold dipped hands would visit
Exclaiming over the great words
Despite being inferior to the actual thing
But he never came
The lights never flashed to life again
The parking lot fell into ruin
Boards were placed over the windows

Oh well
More time to have fun in the dark
The candles would keep them warm

A rhythmic robbery

Jewelry, wallets, any valuable went into that rusted tin
Rain hit a metal roof
A tasteful broach followed the sound of pelting from above
Coughing, chewing, the scraping of  overgrown nails
Orange bubble gum was being popped by an ignoramus

The vacuum salesman was succumbing to the sounds
Planning his next move
Letting the rhythm wash over his oily hair and body

This redneck wanted golden watches and pearl heirlooms
But the salesman would give him a powerful lesson in shady economics
Selling a vacuum meant your family could eat for half a day
And when survival was on the table, an off-kilter man and his rusted tin didn’t stand a chance

Cosmic Record Keeping

Just wait
The immersion will come
Swiftly and extending its arms
To enfold the grass and the delta
In loving arms

But luggage will fall from the sky
Ruining any sense of cosmic justice
Uniforms will spread across the lush land
Looking for trinkets
Or bent reading glasses
Loving the rules that structured this hunt

And so they will put on latex gloves
Bend in the proper manner
Regulations A-F didn’t mention anything about
A bottle of snake vertebrae ensconced by a tree trunk
Time capsules will follow their own rules
Manipulating the universe so that discovery respects
Proper timelines and the order of succession

Mr. Comey

He watches the garden through his window
Thanking the neighbor girl for spotted dough
Now is a time for reflection
To understand the flow of time
To assimilate the mind with a broader human nature

He was calm in the moment
Toying with the overdone circle
Quietly devouring chocolate
Careful not to make a scene

The garden swayed obediently
Amusing the former director
The tomatoes were hyper-vigiliant
They even quivered between their metal holders
Wondering when fatigue would set in

“They will make fine ingredients some day”
Comey thought
“They have to develop just a little bit more”
” So that they might be fat and prosperous”

At that, he smiled
Thinking about prosperous tomatoes
Reclaiming the Earth

Patterns of the Sand and the Sea

No longer a he, it wandered the world

Observing the growth of shrubs in precarious sequence
So many things narrowly avoided death
3% was a glorious dimension where anything could happen

It didn’t want to say anything
To alert them to hidden patterns and possibilities
Talking was a thing of the past
Communication too

The sand turned into miniature golden tornadoes
But that wasn’t enough
Everything persisted and became stale
It decided to take matters into its own hands
To dive into the sea
Rusting like a fucking bucket

Schools of fish ignored him
Sharks sniffed cautiously before turning skittish
And fleeing
They sensed there was something predatory about the thing
It saw death but was never granted it

But soon it would rust
And all those sad possibilities wouldn’t reach even his metal brain

“A Wasteland President” Roundup

So, I’ve written four installments in my “Trump in a Fallout Shelter” series. I’ve re-named it “A Wasteland President” because I think it’s a better title.

Here’s the link to the four installments. Enjoy! (It’s common courtesy to enjoy the writings of other people, even if the writing is objectively terrible).

A Wasteland President, Part 1

A Wasteland President, Part 2

A Wasteland President, Part 3

A Wasteland President, Part 4

He Sounds Like Heaven

Everything was running so smoothly
The missiles were beautiful
One in particular stood out
It was named Chauncey for its loyalty
It would be rewarded soon enough

In the land of nuclear blooms and proper salutes
A radiant man/missile hybrid looked so promising
Even the sounds of stagnation were amazing
They sounded like heaven
Because they wouldn’t be around forever
Those cunning wolves wouldn’t know what hit them
Because cholera was worth more than a thousand warheads


A Wasteland President, Part 1

“Today did an excellent job. But what about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow is cancelled, sir.”
“Cancelled? What do you mean cancelled?”
“It’s just gone, sir.”
“Well, what do you we do now? There’s nothing down here. No enemies, no friends. Nothin’. Just us.”
“Just us, sir.”
“…Just us. Hmm. Do you think anyone is alive up there? Anyone worth talking to?”
“Anyone left up there will be heavily irradiated. It’d be very depressing to watch, sir. They might even ask you for money.”
“I can watch money burn. Why would I give it do them?”
“Precisely, sir. And more to the point, you couldn’t even explain to them that money is pointless in this new world.”
“That sounded poetic. You know what? You’re hired.”
“I know, sir. You’ve fired me a bunch of times already. Then hired me again. I quit. Things don’t look like they will improve.”

[secret service agent, the last of his kind, removes himself from this post-nuclear world]

“What do I do now? Well, that’s a good question. I hire the question. It will do an excellent job.”

[Trump steals rapidly depleting body heat from the dead secret service agent. It’s getting cold down here]