I want you to know that you’ve been sold a fake bill of goods. You know this. It’s that slight discomfort in your gut when you wake up every morning to eat the shit sandwich they’ve made for you. You slave at the wheel, dying a bit each day, while they sip their fine nectars and taste their fattened swine, and they have infected us with their virus of consumption.
Look around you at the decadence of it all:
We trade our health for the promise of a double bacon death pill with a side of artery blockage.
We trade our ecosystem for pretty plastic toys that spew out nothing but poison.
We trade in our minds to a god that rages at us from the frontline of a digital onslaught, as addictive as heroin.
We embrace fear instead of love and acceptance.
We trade the promise of a future for instant gratification.
We decided magick wasn't real.
We have truly accomplished something that few generations before us have. We’ve tuned out, dropped out, and we’re all patiently waiting to die while our 401K matures and our soul does the twist down the metaphysical superhighway. We sit on by and watch the world slip into overdrive, fueled by greed and a lust for that delectable sense of dominion, and a don’t you dare slow down now attitude.
And you say to me, “You point out how the world is fucked, but you offer no solution. Do you have no hope?”
Oh, yes, there is always hope. Everything that exists now has existed before, risen from the ashes of its own demise to form the new car smell of civilization.
I welcome the coming change. It will be pure madness oozing from the pores of the American psyche. I, dear friends and freaks, feel a kinship with Nero. My fiddle is tuned and I’m simply playing the funeral dirge of humanity as we collapse, crushed by the weight of our hubris.
I welcome this. I was born for it. I’m just a cyberpunk poet. A Six Kilo Kowboy, if you will. I’ve percolated in the space between civility and barbarism for my entire life, soaked in the acute self-awareness that allows you to see the ticks of humanity. I’ve been riding the storm as it builds. I’ve been looking for a voice, any voice, that feels the same as I do. That’s when I realized I AM that voice. YOU are that voice.
To all my deviants out there, my freaks and geeks, my activists and anarchists, my hackers and my artists, my ne'er-do-wells and my rebels by birth….now is our time. The chaos is engulfing us all and it is a thing of beauty and rebirth, because nothing ever dies. It simply shapes itself anew. Our canvas is no longer local. We have a new world to imagine.
Give me your art. Express your rage, your love, your kink, your lust, your emotion. Show me your deep down, rock your core truth. Let’s give them a voice so loud it shakes the foundations of civilization. Let us say to the masses, “No time to look back now. It’s time to ride that fucking bomb to the ground, screaming look Ma! Top o’ the world! Embrace the insanity. Welcome to the now, an apocalypse dream made reality!”
Does that bother you?
I hope it does. Everything that’s going on today, right now, is only happening because we’re allowing it. All these people dying all over the place because of the color of their skin or their sexual preference or any other thing that brands them as “different?” It’s our fault, and I’m not excluding myself from the blame.
We've accepted the monoculture, given in to it's overwhelming pressures. It's hard to fight a system that indoctrinates you from the day you're born, after all.
I recently spoke to a friend of mine on this subject. He could not fathom how we could change this societal cage in which we are imprisoned, couldn’t imagine how we could unite in a common purpose of saving the planet. He was worried that the black bags would come out in the middle of the night if we didn’t remain anonymous.
Here’s the thing... I have a life motto. It’s not complicated or hard to remember, so you may want to screenshot this shit. It’s fucking deep, let me tell ya. My motto is:
Easy to say, not so easy to do, yeah?
True. I understand it’s hard to talk the talk and then walk the walk. Even the best of us would find that to be too much of a commitment, in most cases.
I have a philosophy behind saying fuck fear. If you believe in fate, there are two ways you can look at this whole shebang. This isn’t the answer to life, the universe, and everything. (42 BTW.) It suffices as a working model for some sort of philosophical bullshit that you may divine from all this word vomit I’ve got going here.
Fate is a fickle motherfucker at the best of times if you buy into it. You can’t change it, so why fight it? Why sit in fear every single day of your mundane and boring existence, bathing in that dull glow of halogen, while everything goes to shit? Wouldn’t it be better to live life in a way that when you become worm food, people will know you stood for something and you weren’t afraid to stand behind it? Fuck fate and fuck fear.
If you don’t believe in fate, it’s even easier. What’s holding you back from having a useful purpose in this world? Answer: You bought into the lie because it’s comfortable. You knew it was a lie the day you put on your tie and got a respectable haircut. It’s okay. We’ve all done it. You’re not alone, but now’s the time to change that shit, wouldn’t you agree? I mean, you’re not getting younger. Time to make some noise.
What’s your gift?
Everyone has one. I have the gift of my words, for what that’s worth. What can you do? If you say nothing, I will tell you that you are selling yourself short. You have a voice, it’s in there, you just have to find it.
Let’s show them in the streets, face to face.
Let’s talk about real shit. Fuck your jibber jabber bullshit about the weather and your dog.
Let’s feed the homeless and make sure they’re taken care of if we possibly can. Let’s go out and make sure there are communal recycling bins on every street possible. Let’s make sure women are respected and don’t have to be afraid to walk down the street. Let’s make sure there are no more unnecessary black deaths. Let’s stand up against the mistreatment of immigrants, whether they be legal or not. Let’s start ending the wars by simply not fucking going to them. Let’s be motherfucking doers of good. Let’s start a crusade that says FUCK not doing the right thing. Let’s make it so people can’t look away from it. Let’s make it beautiful and real and brutally fucking honest. Let’s sing our song together.
Will they tell you it’s impossible?
Abso-fucking-lutely. “They,” whoever the fuck they are, are confused little assholes that can’t grasp what you bring to the table. In short, fuck ’em. If you can imagine something being done, you can do that shit. Will to power. I believe in you. You should fucking believe in you.
WE CAN DO THIS.
We can cast our net far and wide. We can organize without organizing. If someone stands up and starts telling the truth, back them. Stand with them. You don’t have to say anything. Just stand with them. Support their truth.
Fuck fear, ladies and gentlemen, and do some fucking magick.
Fear is the mind killer. (Thanks, Mr. Herbert.) The only thing limiting you is you. We don’t even have to do this shit full-time, yo. A part-time occult do-gooder is better than those fucking zombies locked in their death spiral with civilization.
Remember that there are billions of us. We are a collective with no boundaries.
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