Sunday, August 20, 2017


Before him sat infinity, sketched out but ill defined, piled high as the lights in the sky
A path spreads her legs and the direction is warm, a trail of honey, a simple gesture
To ensure the best, sir, will be at that table for you, with a side of credulity to the sense that we
Are at a loss of losing
An unmoving sin of fees, condensed and forced assigned, filled nigh as the rights in the sty
A struggle left unrefined.
A thing still undefeated and a comfort that’s unaligned with the mind’s grind
The silly game’s heaving verisimilitude to pacify our ineptitude
An unknowing centipede, stretched out but still behind, trialed here as the rights in us die
Biting our own tail instead of eating the wolf
Surrender in the sunny silly shallows, hardly deep enough to drown a
flock on vacation, always just below the dam
Inauthentic in their concerns
As their children laugh and fail
Chops and pale
And when all the houses we lived in
are ashen ghosts
And the lights in the sky
are of our own making
a cataclysm of nasty wisdom,
who among us is left to get the last…

Now I am become def,
destroyer of words

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Wonderful Things

Her hands clasped together, crushed between her thighs, her chin hung low in vulgar fear;
Don’t look him in the eyes.
Such dreary boredom leaves the creature desperate for a sing or a sting or a ring or a thing.
A bee’s eye view of trashcans and mountain tops
Heaving bosoms atop a crop top, lopsided and pale; mashed and disheveled.
A poor copy; a pouring rain clinging beautiful to white meat,
A tragic waste of taste and paste;
Sticky sweet and sickening, losing luster in the bubbling bluster, pulled asunder in the inky squid and thunder of after hours
Drunk with tedium; super unimpressed with superimposed mediums
Answering the black with howls of non-defiance; non-descriptive in noncompliance.
A contradiction of exclamations and eye rolls.
Iris eye holes going blind, hind-sold on the blocking power of mental blindfolds
Turning off the mind’s soul (or mind’s troll); barking mad and barfing out the sad, sad, bad and null.
Her place in all of this, a distraction.  And her distaste at the dreary disease overcoming this place
as the two of them lay dying
of long overdue exasperation,
just a bastion of credulity.
An exhibit in exhibition shielded from the view of animals less interesting and more mundane and mud stained; dried and cracking the caked earth cream, oblivious to the isolation and bloodless veins of Mondays.
So, she bites her lip in anticipation; this will be it, making the next thought more than just dirt and rocks and filthy non-entities haunting a graveyard of dead ideas and smiles and cries.
The sing or the sting or the ring or the thing…
Just bring the next taste to wring out the saliva wrought with discontent and unease from her mouth.
The puddle she deserves and will break for;
A door to something less,
And infinity more.
Aggravation goads the beast, and he spoke to her eyes like a demon, soothing sore skin and abused hair with a tongue of gold and satin
And a heart of sand and wrath
as folded paper lined the box to keep in the soil and cold.
And just as she found out the world was empty,

her hands stayed full forever.

Thursday, March 2, 2017

Prove your BELIEF in Atheism, Atheist!

Atheism doesn't require proof.  Atheists are not the ones making a claim about having unprecedented knowledge of invisible agents based on a single bronze or iron age, heavily edited book.  Atheism is simply announcing one's disbelief in obviously man made stories of magical father figures and invisible worlds.  Atheism is not a statement of belief.  I don't "believe" that there is no god.  I simply see no evidence for why there would be a god, and conduct my life as if there probably isn't.  Where I will be more brazen is in denying the validity of any single religion to a degree of certainty approaching 99%. 

Most people living in the developed world, with even a mediocre education, reject the existence of unicorns, fairies, and leprechauns.  Yet we don't have to be called a-unicornists, a-faireists, or a-leprechaunists.  There is simply no evidence that would cause one to believe in fairies or leprechauns or unicorns.  And furthermore, one need not be in a state of agnosticism regarding such fanciful creatures.  But why not?  They could exist, right?  You and I can't literally prove they don't exist.  But we don't then need to act in our daily lives like leprechauns just might exist; keeping holy Saint Patrick's day or what have you, simply because we can't prove leprechauns don't exist.  Therefore we are all a-leprechaunists, despite the fact that leprechauns are not strictly disprovable.

God is no different. 

Most people are just brought up being told a particular god is real by authority figures they have no reason not to believe.  They are conditioned by their accident of geography to have faith in the particular fairytale local to them which is reinforced daily by the fact that all the other people around them also believe in that same god.  Religions are memeplexes that get replicated in their given distribution areas by authority, normalization, kin selection, social coherence, and other memetic evolutionary pressures.  An American Christian may swear to the truth of Jesus the Saviour, but had that same individual been born in India, they would most likely be Hindu or Jainist rather than Christian, and would swear the truth of those claims.  And they'd go on to use the same rationals and personal anecdotes of positive experience to justify their unfounded beliefs, ignoring the rather obvious geographic distribution and social construction of all the religions. 

The accident of geography, being that it is almost always the key variable in determining what someone's religious faith will likely be, should be proof enough to any reasonable person that none of the world religions can possibly be the "right one".  It's too obvious that religious belief is subject to regional happenstance.  Any review of the history of religions reveals, quite openly and plainly, that all the current religions are evolved from earlier religions that are no longer practiced. 

Furthermore, from a philosophical standpoint, what kind of just, loving god makes eternal happiness contingent upon a specific belief system, supplies one correct version of this belief in the midst of 1000's of incorrect variations, and then eternally punishes the people he caused to be born, through no fault of their own, into societies that practice one of the incorrect versions?  Likewise, why would a just god leave a pathway for a serial killer to repent in the final moments of his life and join paradise for eternity, meanwhile damning otherwise kind, trustworthy, and good people to eternal torment for the crime of believing in the wrong theology?

There is something seriously incongruous about a god who is all knowing and omnibenvolent, yet sends people to suffer an eternity of torment for thought crimes while not recognizing that he himself is ultimately culpable for the sinner's wrong-headed worldview for having birthed them into the incorrect religion in the first place.  A mere human understanding of right and wrong, fair and unfair, seems far wiser than any particular god's on offer.

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

The Devil's in the Details

The monsters are here, and we are to frame.  The fingers point, but goats are goats, all the same.
So, despite the blame, this is not a choice, but a foist, so eat the roast, you cannibal stain.
No ink on finger or popular name will goad the beast and make it tame.
What a sham.  A shape of fame that bakes the brain; addicts to a dream that sounds the same.
There’s no where left to hide, and it’s right under our noses.
A smell that startles the nostrils awake, and tears the eyes.
A decay of consent; the arms and legs rotted off while the mouth propels nothing but bluster and banality, propped open for the cold comfort of consumption.
Vague requests can be heard to get off the ride (but stay in the fair, all the same).
An Era of the wrong chains wearing out; not the shackles, the supports.
Links letting go at the apex of the swing, the children hurtling into
safe spaces to land and yawn and fail differently than their fathers.
A boring thud on a ground made of foam; fetal position prepares for impact, umbilical bungee now included.

I heard something the other day.  This sound… what a sound!

Wait, where’d everyone go?

Tuesday, June 9, 2015

So, you think I'm going to hell?

So, you think I'll go to hell?  For disbelief?  Am I a bad person?  Have I raped or murdered anyone?  No.  I'm a good man, a loving father and husband, and a productive member of society.  Yet a child rapist need only repent in his final moments and, providing it was sincere, gets into paradise forever while I receive untold tortures for eternity?

  It should be painfully clear that such an idea lends nothing to a real conversation on morality.  There is nothing immoral about my dismissing your god as easily as you dismiss Allah and Zeus.  And any god who would send millions upon millions of good, honest people to hell for disbelief, or holding the "wrong" belief, yet lets child rapists and murders in to heaven having just come to Jesus on their last hour would be a god with such a poor sense of moral importance that it may be worth resisting him if it the Bible were true.

However, I'm 99% sure that if there is any sort of creative intelligence, it doesn't map on to any of the thousands of obviously man made religious books read today in languages they were not written in, having been translated and edited by the ruling class.

And I'm about 85% sure there is no creative intelligence at all because a creative intelligence would be more complex than the universe itself and would then require its own explanation that would then be more complex than itself, and so on, ad infinitum.  It is an infinite regress that increases in complexity forever, which makes no sense physically or metaphysically.

And again, back to the accident of geography, what makes YOU so lucky as to have been born into the correct religion?  "Believing" in the religion to which you are born has nothing to do with choice or morality or logical use of your intellect, and its nothing to be "proud" of.  You can't be "proud" that you're 6'2" or that you never bald or don't need glasses.  You didn't earn any of those things through effort and intentions, they are just accidents of genetics.

So ask yourself, then: what kind of monster creates the circumstances for billions of people to be born and taught the "wrong" information, and then orchestrates an endless punishment for them?

Kinda insane.

Saturday, June 6, 2015

And now, back to our originally scheduled program...

There are people alive right now who think there is some sort of magical cosmic battle playing out for which they are on the correct side of, due to nothing more evidence based than the accident of their birth to the correct geographical area to have been indoctrinated into the correct doctrine, despite the simple fact that had they been born elsewhere, they'd believe something entirely different.

This is the age of information.

There is no evidence that any one of the hosts of iron age books was the product of an all knowing, benevolent power.  Most of the holy books even get the answer to the question of "should we keep slaves?" wrong.  How can moral perscriptions be drawn from any book that gets one of the most easy moral questions of civilization wrong?

How can a book that spends pages upon pages detailing how to burn animals as a sacrament but never takes motions against rape or slavery possibly have any relevance to the lives of enlightened human beings in the 21st century?

How does anyone accept the idea that any consciousness able to create the whole of the cosmos would do so just to demand that one species of primates on one lonely planet amoungst a billion-billion planets be required to burn certain animals as a "sweet savor"?  What kind of simple, boringly brutish and all too human megalomaniac would burst into existence an untold billions of stars and galaxies just to make a world where he can angrily punish certain sexual activities of one type of animal on one of the galaxy's billions of planets?

And how does one religious group dismiss another's truth claims?  Which word-of-mouth, hyper-edited, contradictory set of stories passed down by illiterate iron age goat herders do we believe?

Even Pascale's wager fails here.  If one were to believe in a god simply to be "safe" from some sort of damnation just in case there is a god, then how does one go about deciding which of the 500-1000 different currently worshipped gods to believe in?  Or what if one of the thousands of dead gods from mythology was the correct one, and everyone now has it screwed up?

Or what if the Scientologists are right?

Scientology and Mormonism only seem to sound more ridiculous than other religions because they don't have the obscurance of time covering up their obvious nonsense.  Oh, but place some weird sounding text in the first century, and it all makes sense.  The writings of men who knew nothing of the germ theory of disease.  Who thought the sun, moon, and planets circles the ealrth.  Who thought epilepsy was a manifestation of evil powers because they did not understand neurology.

  If any one book was written by an omniscient being, one would think this would be the best possible book on any subject.

But the saddly, the best advice most of these supposedly divine books can muster is little snippets like "do unto others..." or "there is no compulsion in religion" buried within page after page of who to kill, when to kill them, how to kill them, how to subjugate your wife, how to abuse your children, when it's okay to commit genocide, when it's okay to rape the women of conquered peoples, who can be taken as slaves, how to appropriately abuse your slaves...

The Hubble telescope has shown us images of unbelievable beauty.  Stars exploding.  Galaxies swirling into each other.  A billion billion planets wrapped in the heavens of a billion galaxies in our own observable universe.

I can't believe for a moment that if all this has a creator, he could find no better use of his time now then to hate fags, damn people for their accident of birth, win highschool football games (for the team that prays the hardest), and find middle class white american women's car keys, menwhile allowing a generation of AIDS babies in Africa to grow up without parents.

Just think about this: at some point in the next hour or so a child is going to be raped.  A child.  Raped.  Every hour or so.  This happens every day.  If god does not stop this right now, he is either impotent or evil.

  Yet one of the biggest scandals in one of the biggest churches is child rape.  From the same church that preaches the sinfulness of contraceptive use in Africa where AIDs is killing off a generation of people.  Apparently, AIDS is bad, but contraceptives are worse, because they can ruin your after life!

There is no afterlife.  Our brains are just material.  And if there was an afterlife, I have no interest in spending it hanging around with a violent megalomaniac who makes his existence ambiguous while demanding worship and allowing sectarian violence to engulf a world he supposedly created out of love.

That is a made up god.  If there is a real god, she is not a meddler in our affairs; rather a grand mover.  She is probably just the laws of physics and need not be personified.  And I say "she" because this thing would have given birth to the universe.  What's a guy gonna do, blow it out his dick?  Talk about a big bang...

Joking aside, if we were to grant even a grand mover, we'd still be left wondering what created the creator.  Something complex must come from something more complex.  It creates an infinite regress that can't be reconciled.

We are not in a cosmic war.  Stop wasting your life by placing all your bets in one of a thousand baskets.  We will not create a truly pluralistic, peaceful world until we shed old dogmas and embrace the reality that we are all in this together, and this is the only chance we get.  

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

A Simulation of Self

Sometimes I think the I is a me, but it's really just a me I see in me that's not a thinker of thoughts, but an observer of what is a me;

so, occasionally, I'll forget that and see a will that's free of the me in me, although that me is a simulation of free and I can only be the me that's me.

Neurology can't be free of the me that I see and think is free; that me is just an endless sea of all the things caught inside of me that I've seen or heard; the life of me that makes the I a me from which I cannot be free; and who's this "I" I speak of so freely?

I don't know and can't account but by anyone's count I could have been another amount of thoughts that bounce around the house of a head so full of thoughts and doubts that it's about to blow; a mind so full of thoughts I just about have to shout to hear the me I think is me over the constant sounds that drown me out.

Maybe I can make a copy of me; just a CTRL C of an identity to paste on a different entity.  Like software running laterally to the reality of a mentality that fools a brain into the normality of duality.

Leave the creatures empty; the ghost in the shell is but a clever thought; the sentiment of an entity that doesn't grasp that sentience is not agency but an illusion of the laity to personify so selfishly and imagine a universe so sadly tiny that your center is the priority of a consciousness much more than thee; an authority so shallow and petty as to care who you fuck or what days you eat spaghetti.

This is a failure of your cognitive capacity to learn and use your thoughts compassionately; ignoring all the words of rationality while you indulge your race or nationality as if this is some crass reality where your luck of birth in actuality determines your worth or the factuality of your beliefs and commonalities.

Free your illusion from this delusion of selfish indulgence and focus annulment to all the false consoling you received from the alter of mindless contrition; make it your mission to live lives worth living and shed off the fear of a life of oblivion.    

Death erases only minds;

Our stardust exists forever.