Arrogant Prophecies - an Unspoken Prophecy

With this installment, the Arrogant Prophecies begins, as promised in the beginning, to finally take a turn towards a synthesis, the light and the eternal hope for a better day.

The unknown poet of the Third Galaxy left almost no notes of clarification of how this poem should be understood, except that he says plainly that "son-of-man" must not be thought of as an individual. I quote, "He [the son of man] must be thought of as that to which "we", as homo sapiens, are but a "Missing Link" -- that to which our leaders create monuments -- and such strange monuments they are!"

Everybody understands
the words I use, but, my meaning gets them quite confused!

Understanding does not answer to command!

It sparkles forth, like tin foil shaken to amuse
a frightened child, or scare crows
away from fields ripe, and chosen for the harvest...

The ignorance of our leaders is shown
in squandered future generations they invest
in monuments to the Missing Link.

Our Common Humanity is more common than they think!

The son-of-man walks among us,
unknown to all, even to himself -- and thus
the words of the prophets will be fulfilled.

(Words which could have been written by anyone!)

"When flowers bloom on the window sill,
is it the fault of the water -- or the shining sun?...

Arrogant Prophecies - The Ugly Evil

Today's installment is again a reiteration of themes seen in earlier verses of the Arrogant Prophecies.

Besides that, however, the unknown poet proclaims a denial and absolute rejection of nihilism and its embracement of a single sided, dark Kali. As he succinctly phrases it elsewhere, "The fact is, the "majesty-of-might" is nothing more than a hole in the ground."

It is my belief that when the poet writes "When every thing that happens, happens not once, but twice", it is a referral to the "Final Analysis", a concept common to visions at the heart of all the great religions in the Third Galaxy (and some of the minor ones also, of course).

To quote the unknown poet once again, this time in more detail: "The Reality is that there is That-Which-Is. That is to say, what we think of as yesterday , today and tomorrow are not separate temporalities -- they are part of a single fabric, woven of a single cloth, just as the robe of the Idaho which was given to the soldiers to gamble for. This is why holes are called "holes" by the way -- they tear holes in the fabric of reality."

"when driving on the highway you can look back and see where you were a mile back -- that spot is still there. That you were there is still there also. True, you can only see the place and not your being-there -- but that does not negate the fact of the matter. The intuition is that, from a certain perspective, one could look back where you stopped the car and took a leak in the bushes. There are no proofs -- just some tantalizing clues here and there in the manifest universe. On the other hand, when you get done to it, most everything is based on intuition."

[For clarity, one could render the opening couplet in terms of our culture as: "Those were the days of anti-christ / foretold so long before in rhyme and strange device."]

These were the days of anti-Spud
foretold so long before in rhymes of the Idaho's blood
Whatever happens, it isn't nice
when everything that happens, happens not once – but TWICE!

The silent scarecrow's silent screams...
The bodies floating softly down the silent streams...

The sweet reflections on the screens...
The speaker droning, "It's nothing but a passing dream..."

"Do exactly what you like,
nothing matters – go greasy into the night..."

"Two billion years of evolving love –
rip it, beat it, smash it, kill it and then shove it
into a grave or a shallow hole
or flush it down a porcelain toilet bowl!"

"What-ever-you-want-to-do is – RIGHT!"
"Nothing matters except the Majesty-of-Might!"

Arrogant Prophecies - The Simonized Leopard

Today the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy revisits themes we have seen earlier in his Arrogant Prophecies.

Here are some of his own comments:

"The ingenious insight which underpinned the Groundlaw of the Land of Light and Liberty before she mutated into a Land of Arrogance was a system of checks and balances imbedded the Groundlaw which, for more than two centuries ensured that one segment of the government, particular the executive branch, could not wield power without oversight from the other two."

"This is the obscene in Ronald Rexona's ascension, first as "Commander-in-Chief" then later as Supreme Hole of Arrogance. The purpose of "Commander-in-Chief" was to cement the idea in the national consciousness that the military was under civilian control. Rexona twisted it so that all Arrogant citizens came to think of him as their "Commander-in-Chief -- and this was an absolute perversion of the original intention."

When Rexona begins prancing around in his little military uniforms, it is forgotten that "Commander-in-Chief" is a literal translation of "Imperator" -- the preferred title of the first Emperor of the Roamin Empire!"

Let me see, did I get this right?
We got us a president who talks in sound bites?

How this happened, I have to know!
Why did we allow incompetence to grow?

It all seemed so, "disconnected" --
our economy shattered, our leaders never truly elected...

Wars against secret foes,
our Bill of Rights taking serious body blows...

Why these nightmares riding my mind?
Why the coincidental merge of sleaze and slime?

Why this political super cell,
forming bow echo threats to blow us all to hell?

How did we happen to get this far?
Will we soon see Madam soon, astride her big, fat car?

A sort of "simonized" leopard
churning across seas of broken glass and shards?

____________________________________
A "super-cell" is a meteorological phenomenon preceding the formation of tornadoes. A "bow-echo" is a situation where several super-cells sort of curl in upon themselves and then engender a series of ultra violent tornadoes. The implication is that national and world events are seen leading to a sort of political "bow-echo".

"Madam" and her "fat car" is a reworking of images found in Revulsions. 17:3 and 17-7-12. The "fat car" is seen as simonized, because a car must be polished -- however, the term is also referring to the fact that "simony" is to the Godbiz what sleaze and slime is to politics.

Arrogant Prophecies - Screaming Rabbits...

Unlike our more perfect world, in the Third Galaxy, there was a tendency in places of incarceration, that is to say, prisons, that the treatment of prisoners by their guards -- and among fellow prisoners also -- degenerated, even to inhumane atrocities of outright torture.

This is how the unknown poet put it:

"You don't understand why such atrocities occurred in the "Father-of-Darkness" Prison, "Gitmore" and other, more secret and darker places?"

"It's simple. When you give absolute power to people over other human beings without the political will that there will be serious, independent oversight, ugly things will happen to those with no voice or contact with the outside world. As has mentioned earlier, it may well be that in the beginning there were noble ideas about serving a just cause in a difficult world. However, sooner than later, the lure of secret power will attract the worst and even corrupt the best."

"That is as certain as the fact that ice cubes melt in a glass of water."

"There'll always be rabbits and rabbits have ears!",
they always say that when they come to take the "cure"...

I don't know where they got theirs, but for sure
I paid for all my sorry excuses with bloody tears!

I've got a receipt, but I can't keep
it in my pocket, because it would "disappear''.

The camp is full of weirdoes who think,
"Here's my chance!" if but a single drop of fear
appears between the dirty sheets,
or bulges in some brand-new prisoner's underwear.

It's not allowed, of course, to speak
out loud of such violent lusts, but the guards don't care
how the prisoners get their treats
as long as they're quiet and keep the barracks clean and neat.

But still, it's always quite a shock
to see them rabbit ears nailed to a rock!

Arrogant Prophecies - Wild-Eyed Witness from the Wilderness

I'm having some difficulty posting this installment of the Arrogant Prophecies.

The unknown poet has very little to say about it, but we know from earlier that "ugly evil" is part of what he elsewhere refers to as an "unwholesome threesome".

He points out that it can be seen as the antithesis to the sprouting of the Holy Idaho, which, in the Third Galaxy is pretty much the same as our Xmas ("the hopes and fears of all the years" disappear, i.e. are swallowed up/devoured by "dusty tears" -- which are tears of utter despair.)

"Instead of a crucifixion of the world, we have the world trashed. Instead of a resurrection of the Spud we have an ascendancy upon a throne of garbage, an evil, baleful and ugly."

It's such a cruel blasphemy,
full of impudence and stupidity!

The very thought of "God" becomes
a nagging hangnail, that you worry with your teeth,

With long and yellow nails your thumb
painfully reminds you that flesh will bleed.

Meanwhile, the "hopes and fears of all the years
are met in thee..." and disappear into dusty tears.

Across the seas of grinding glass,
an Ugly Evil rules a world completely trashed.

Its stinking throne is streaked with rust.
(a sliding pile of broken promises and concrete blocks.)

It's here all hopes are ground to dust,
as human forms twitch with electric shocks!

Streets of cold and utter stone,
fear and agony as soul is sucked from bone.

Arrogant Prophecies - Did You Go to Church Last Sunday?

It may be difficult for you who live in a more peaceful and rational world such as ours to understand what can appear to us as an ambivalent attitude of composer of the Arrogant Prophecies towards established religion.

We know from his own notes and commentaries that the unknown poet was well versed in the sacred texts of the Peeler religion and that, at least in a cultural sense was a Peeler. In any case he often quotes chapter and verse from the Book of the Idaho as well as the Book of Chocolate and other texts and legends as well as any of the fundamentalists he despises and rakes with satire, irony and dripping sarcasm.

In today's poem one might be puzzled that writes about "empty pews" when the church is supposedly filled with a congregation that groans. Perhaps he was familiar with a story similar to that of Israel ben Eliezer, aka the Baal Shem Tov, of whom it is told that, after services he greeted the people as they left the synagogue in a manner one usually used when people were returning from a long journey. The people were of course puzzled, but the Baal Shem told them, "You were away on business and you were working on your farm and you were preparing dinner for the coming holiday season..."

The fact is, when you get down to it, the people of the Third Galaxy are not all that different from us!

The congregation sits and groans,
while the sermon spews into the restless, empty pews.

The church is full of saintly bones,
but no one, no one at all remembers what to do.

Idaho must have had some doubts
about it being worth the trouble of hanging out
with all those fishy friends of his
who take and take and take -- but rarely ever give.

If it was just a question of
Power, Fame and Glory, all that historical stuff...

Perhaps...perhaps -- indeed, perhaps!

But this kind of story somehow snaps the dreadful traps
of history, and cracks the stones
beneath the feet of snotty little kings and queens.

The grass roots and saintly bones
crush and cleanse all monuments of broken dreams!

___________________________________
When I was a young lad in Poosah City, the bench by the bus stop asked in letters six inches high "Did you go to church last Sunday?"

That was a loaded rhetorical question designed to make the reader feel guilty in the same way as if they had forgotten to brush their teeth , cream the underarm area with deodorant or had flakes of dandruff on their shoulder pads. That is to say, whose business was it to be in your face with this advertising ploy? It was the business of the church across the street which had made the bench available to the public waiting for public transportation -- that is to say, it was business -- GODBIZ

However, when all is said and done, that which inspires the feelings common to all humanity, that which makes it possible for the churches to run a business in the first place -- that cannot be completely covered or hidden by all the shenanigans, rigmarole and bamboozlement of the churches and religious charlatans in general.

People make many claims about the Idaho. All I will say is that he is an expression of our common humanity.

Arrogant Prophecies - Imbugeration of the She Goat

Today's installment of the Arrogant Prophecies confirms something I have long suspected.

When I first started receiving communications from the Third Galaxy, they were channeled to me by a then unemployed angel known to me as Man-u-El Ishman. It has since been employed and sent on a secret mission to an undisclosed location.

At that time of its employment, I was granted direct access to the Absolute Truth, 21st Edition -- including 2nd and 3rd level footnotes. Now that I can research these rather extensive records on my own, I am convinced that most, if not all of the earlier material given to me through Ishman was composed by the same unknown poet who composed the Arrogant Prophecies!

In his own notes to the poem you receive today, the unknown poet states that it was a reworking of one of his earlier works, "The Imbuggeration of Ronald Rexona". Both this piece and today's poem are rather disturbing in the imagery used which on the surface seems obscene.

The obscenity, however, is superficial -- it is a tool to describe deeper, spiritual obscenities which corrupted the Lady of Liberty and Light and eventually the entire Third Galaxy.

I conclude with other pertinent notes written by the unknown poet:

The Supreme Hole and the Great She Goat are two aspects of an unwholesome threesome. This is to be seen in contrast to the Wholesome Threesome of which the Peelers believe the Idaho is but one Person. An unwholesome threesome is recognized by the fact that the three parts actually have no real separate personality and cannot exist, except in concert. Because of this, they hate each other. Therefore, there is never an actual Union, as supposedly is the state of the Wholesome Threesome of Peeler dogma. An unwholesome threesome is constantly dividing and coming together in the restless night of a pseudo-existence of mutual hate.

The muzak and the jellybeans
were twisting, turning in a very ugly dream
I pray must never come to pass.

May it prove to be a simple case of stomach gas!

Some where or when, within an iron tower,
he sits and fondles his Rocket Rod of Power.

He croons, "I'm a buttery boaster!"
"I wants the world to be my holy-roller-coaster!"

"Screw the price! Damn the cost!"
"Not a single burning inch must be lost!"

The plan of the Supreme Hole
is to wait until he finally achieves his goal

He will then scream of permanence
upon a fundament of living excrement.

All conscience will be silenced as
the Rocket Rod is withdrawn from the She Goat's Ass!"

Arrogant Prophecies - The Public Organ Banks

Today's installment of Arrogant Prophecies describes a nightmare world worthy of Cordwainer Smith where political prisoners are used as organ farms where organs, after harvesting are regenerated to be harvested again.

What a sick imagination this unknown poet has! The fact is, that is the way things were in the Third Galaxy, so much unlike our own world.

On the other hand, to tell the truth, unpleasantries occasionally do happen in our world. Mothers have stood in lines trying to find out what happened to their disappeared children -- and received no answer.

In fact, many are the obscenities which can so easily devolve from absolute power wedded with the skills of technology. For example, in our beautiful world, Joseph Stalin got it into his head to crossbreed human seed with chimpanzees. He wanted a race of super-soldiers, strong and impervious to pain, a sort of Uruk-Hai.

Fortunately, the fellow he picked for the job, Ilya Ivanov was no Saruman and the realities of genetics precluded anything that resembled the slightest chance of success in this mad plan.

The hope and the promise is that, against any tyranny, life will find a way. Need and stress cause living things to seek a way out and tyranny contains the seed of its own demise. Avarice leads to the need for power, but power breeds arrogance and arrogance, in turn, to ignorance.

In fact, ignorance of a certain sort is required to unleash the unhindered drive to power in the first place.

It is here the lines of mothers wait,
outside these gates of hell, to hear just what it was
their children did, and what the law
which sent them to such a cold, Promethean fate.

Their livers grow and, when they're ripe,
shining, steel pincers deftly snip and yank.
One more organ for the banks!

This finest product of the finest minds of Arrogance
is called "cyro-regeneration"!

A spleen? A heart? An eye? Blood of any type?
Like rows of frozen tee-vee dinners:
even sinners serve the Leaders of the State.

(Ahhhh!)

But even children are sometimes born,
and mothers give them birth, and mothers have this curse:

A gasping cry, the rushing storm,
the bag of waters, richly green, throbs and bursts!

Arrogant Prophecies - Bankers of Illusion

Today's installment of the Arrogant Prophecies uses some rather disgusting images so I'll have to comment on it although I'd rather not.

First of all, I have noticed that several commentators in the Third Galaxy seem to think that "Bankers of Illusion", an image the unknown poet often uses, refers to the mainstream media in general and what was later to become the United State of Arrogance in particular. This is not quite accurate for it is not television, movies, radio, etc., as such which he takes issue with but the flux and nexus of power, both economic and political, which controlled the media in that unfortunate world.

Secondly, the uninformed reader might think that the unknown poet had a rather sick imagination, when one considers the images he makes use of here. If I could show you some of the movies and programs which passed for entertainment in the Third Galaxy, you would be shocked but you would also understand that the images in these poems are practically understatement.

Can you imagine movie dreams in which the hero murders in cold blood a dozen people, blowing them away as offhandedly as you might swat a fly, then has casual intercourse with a female who appears for no other reason in the plot. Or, how about a hero who tortures people, for example threatens to poke a fellow's eye out with an ice-pick and immediately gets the information he needs to disarm the atomic bomb terrorists have ticking away some where in Poosah City?

There was even a movie which showed in graphic detail over two hours of torture ending with the murder of a human being -- in the form of the Holy Idaho -- and it was a smash box-office success!

Indeed, such was common fare and the people of Arrogance became inured and accustomed to the cynical use and blatant abuse of power. This sort of thing was the share of the Bankers of Illusion in bringing about the ascendency of the Supreme Hole and the Terrible Times which then ensued.

There was a meeting of the Bankers
of Illusion, and they all agreed to feed
a juicy piece of naked love
into a screaming ball of artificial wax...

One lusty Banker said: "Thank her
only if the 'heavy-stuff' makes it bleed!"

As if it wasn't already enough,
They smear themselves with glue and blue carpet tacks.

The ugly little pricks need
to wear such cruel vests of broken glass and boast
with neon obscenities, "No one
gives a rusty red rat's ass what we do
to get it on the glowing screen!"

"They'd all get sick if they really had to see us roast
some fellow's toes or strip a thumb
to the bone and drop it, bit by bit, into the stew."

Arrogant Prophecies - Childhood of Broken Glass

The reader may well wonder how it can be that the unknown poet who composed the "Arrogant Prophecies" could be so..."unknown".

Although all artists hunger for recognition, perhaps on a more important level he "wanted" it to be that way. It could even be genetic, an survival instinct which helped ensure the safety of his contribution to the gene pool. During the Terrible Times survival in the Third Galaxy was often a rather dicey affair and being "known" was not always a positive.

That said, the reader may well ask how it can be that the unknown poet now is so "well-known". The answer is that if the Alien Veggies had not appeared in the skies of that poor world on the very eve of its final destruction, not only would the unknown poet have remained unknown, all the "known", all the great and mighty, the snotty little kings, the generals and world shakers would have been forgotten.

The Alien Veggies say that, when a planet is destroyed, its soul and mind also vanish. All is flushed away and there is nothing left of the hope and promise -- nothing but the mindless chatter of a restless night. Indeed, there are some critics who contend that this could be considered the "sin against the Holy Wind" to which the Idaho so often referred.

A lot of things happen when you're a kid,
so much that you never really quite get over it.

Our childhood is the first test
of life from which identity is distilled for the rest.

Between the clean and the unclean
there are multitudes of impressions clamoring
to be your personality.

I simply can not make my mind comprehend
the fact that most of us survive
our childhood until we reach adult lives.

"Childhood is the pure breath"?
"Childhood is one, long, drawn-out death"!

You've heard the phrase: "Unless ye become
little children, ye can not enter the Kingdom of God!"

But, other kiddies squeak: "If childhood
is so bright and pink -- then whose is hell's delightful food?(!)"

______________________________________
The images here draw upon Sunflower Woman's life-poem, "You're a Child so Long, You Never Quite Get Over It", in the beginning of which she asks, "What have we done to the Child?". Indeed, what have we done?

According to the intuitions recorded in the Book of the Holy Idaho, mankind will awaken as from a drunken stupor and mend its ways. However, the likelihood that will happen in such a positive way seems more and more unlikely.

If mankind awakens at all, it will likely be more as the fellow in the story who, having dreamt the same dream as all the other men -- that their world was going to end -- killed his children the Night Before the End, only to wake the next morning to find that the world was still there. But the children were all dead -- and with them, the future.

Arrogant Prophecies - Loads of Toads...

In today's installment of the "Arrogant Prophecies", the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy finds yet another angle on the theme he has been addressing repeatedly -- the ways in which the Ugly Evil can manifest in the public mind as well as the world.

Again, I find that the unknown poet has himself left sufficient notes, so I will let the composer speak for himself about "Loads of Toads":

"It may well be so – quite likely, actually – that we are headed into a great crisis from which we may or may not emerge as human beings. However, this crisis and far less the result is not something which has been ordained by the Great Potato. Moreover, the eagerness of fundamentalists of every stripe to actually embrace such catastrophe is utter blasphemy of the darkest sort."

"Whatever the reason, we have reached the stage where the crisis seems inevitable -- a crisis may very well impel a spring in our evolution causing the unity implicit in our common humanity to become a realized reality. On the other hand, it's quite possible that we will screw the pooch so bad that the spirit of our common humanity is mortally wounded."

"In that scenario the light of conscious awareness will be extinguished on our planet."

The facts of our situation
are far worse than the consequences of red hot phones!

They're a screaming negativity
resounding within the bounds of steel and concrete!

The walls, relentlessly closing in,
choke and crush the will and suck the soul from bone!

What rare thing this poverty,
where people seldom dare to even think to speak
of the thoughts and dreams and things unseen
which dwell within the human heart's tenderness!

The woe is more than I can keen!

Ancient Horrors of the Night in modern-dress
clumsily caress and paw
the sweetest child of what was once called decency!

Meanwhile, demon armies of croaking frogs,
Creeping and crawl in blathering ascendancy!

______________________________
I must apologize to our four-legged amphibian friends for using them as an image of Ugly Evil. True, I lifted the image straight from the Book of Idaho [Revulsions 16:12-14] where three sources of evil are seen barfing up demon spirits which hop, skip and blather, spewing blasphemies against the Great Potato. Still, I don't like projecting human failings on other creatures who have no say in the matter.

The fact is, frogs are pretty cool critters. There is a story that if you put a frog in a pot and slowly heat the water, it will end up getting cooked before it realizes how hot it is getting. This is an urban legend. The frog will actually hop out of the pot when it gets too hot. People though, especially when organized in social groups often fail in this regard -- how else can we explain how Ronald Rexona becoming Supreme Hole of Arrogance?

Arrogant Prophecies - The Beast Outside My Window

In today's installment of the "Arrogant Prophecies" the unknown poet again conflates some of his childhood experiences and fears with currents he perceives in the meta-psychic interstices of the larger society.

Before I go further, I must say that I am puzzled by his use of the word "tyger" when it is obvious from his notes that he means "tiger". If it wasn't for his being a denizen of the Third Galaxy and thus having no way to know anything about our Sweet William Blake, I would assume that this was a reference to Blake's poem, "The Tyger".

Indeed, much of the unknown poet's work seems to be influenced by this and two other of Blake's poems: "The Divine Image" and "A Divine Image". In fact, I would suspect that this crazy fellow affected a pretense that he had in some measure inherited the mantle of our English prophet-bard. But this is of course impossible, as he had no way of knowing anything of our bright and beautiful world!

Yet, we must still grapple with the question of his apparent ability to paint word pictures in works composed decades before it happened, which describe the essence of the ugly things which would all too soon unfold, visiting so much pain and sorrow upon the Third Galaxy.

Perhaps the best explanation is that the composer, having grappled with his own inner darkness, acquired an ability to comprehend something of the darkness lurking in larger world. The reader may well disagree, but that is not my opinion only, but that of several important commentators in the Third Galaxy, including that of the estimable Elmer Eggplant.

I hear a beast somewhere outside!
It's a grumble-throated monster which I hear day and night!

When I awake from sleep at night, my sweat
in cooling sheets covers me. Yeah, I'll bet
you know what I am talking about!

I used to be afraid to take the garbage out,
afraid some "tyger" from the Zoo
was lurking in the dark, ready to bite me in two!

The beast of which I speak to you
came from no Zoo -- it is an image of me and you!

Danyell spent one night in the den
of lions and people think that it was hard on him.

But, what about Innocence,
the sweetest child of our common humanity?

Will angels come to her defense?
Will angels keep her safe from the beast's hungry rapacity?

_______________________________
During my early teens, I was terrified to take the garbage out at night. I feared that a tiger had escaped from the Poosah City Zoo and waited in the dark to pounce on me. I knew it was ridiculous even as I scurried out the door into tropic night, dunked the garbage in the can and ran back into the house, slamming the door behind me.

Danyell had to spend but a single night in the lion's den [Danyell 6:16-23]. But you and I and every one of us have to spend all our days – and nights – with other people, which can often be a bit more dicey than a single night with lions, I think.

The poem concludes with reference to a more general rapacity which lies in the shadow of our common humanity. Indeed, what can we do to save the Child of Innocence?

Arrogant Prophecies - Brambles in my Heart

In today's installment of the Arrogant Prophecies, the unknown poet once against returns to painting with a large brush.

Although he composed these poems years before the terrible events, he describes somehow the essence of that which was so obviously going to occur when Ronald Rexona ascended to the position of Supreme Hole of Arrogance.

First, the Lady of Liberty and Light mutates into the United State of Arrogance, also known as Madam in her Fat Car. Then she proceeds to set herself upon the world's resources and began to drain them dry "...like some giant tick" as the unknown poet so graphically puts it.

But shall I not let him speak for himself?

"In the Final Analysis, when all has gone down to dust – what then?"

"What will happen will happen -- but none of it is inevitable. The Great Potato did not write a divine screenplay and we all are bound to recite our lines on cue. Those who will say otherwise are liars and cheats."

Far worse are those who await with joy that the end should come and actually work to bring it about, telling themselves and misleading others that the "Fix is In" and they will all be Ruptured to the Great Colander in the Sky to live in bliss with the Great Potato. Indeed, they are ten times ten times worse than Chewedass who only betrayed the Idaho – these betray our common humanity.

These brambles in my secret heart
reflect the open wounds which tear the world apart!

This is more than just a simple plea,
we must see the evils spawned by secrecy!

There comes a tyranny such
as the world has never seen. It will sit and suck
the world dry as it brazenly rips
the flesh from living beasts. It will then smugly sit
and bloat. It's like some giant tick,
which turns the world into piles of excrement!

You laugh, and say: it isn't so?
The signs of it are flashing everywhere you go!

The fact is that there are no facts,
no real facts, commanding now must come the attack.

Nothing but agendas hidden
and a march of men bidden to Armageddon!

Arrogant Prophecies - Rubber Yoni

Yesterday's installment of the Arrogant Prophecies may was philosophical and pondered the human condition.

The reader may wonder what that and the parallel theme of today's poem can have to do with the disasters which befell that unfortunate world we know here as the Third Galaxy. If that is the case then the fault is mine, I may have given the impression that everything was the fault of Ronald Rexona, his Evil Companion, Mr. Snarly, their enablers, the Neocunz, the MegaCorps, the Bankers of Illusion and the Falze Profits, those miserable persons who perverted the Peeler, Masher and other religions for money and power.

Just as important was the fact that so many people in the Third Galaxy led twisted lives because of that which had been "...torn into the hearts of children so long lost and forlorn", as the unknown poet put it in yesterday's poem.

As a matter of fact, this could be said to apply to the common humanity of the Third Galaxy. In the "Book of Chocolate", one of the early texts not included in the Book of the Holy Idaho, the Idaho is quoted as saying:

"Some of you have been saying among yourselves that I am the Son of the Great Potato and that may very well be so! But, could I not also be an Orphan? If so, then we are all orphans!"

In any case, the unknown poet today takes yesterday's theme further in a more specific sense, in that he speaks of how these wounds curdled and perverted the basic act of human creation, in fact of all life. That is to say, the act of procreation, turning it into something dirty and filthy, of denial, control, dominance, ownership, pain and even torture and death.

A lot of things you think are true
are just a bunch of lies some crook has sold to you!

The Sun and the Moon are in the sky,
so why would anyone pretend to be alive?

Lots of guys beat their wives
and sometimes even little children want to die!

Who can live when life's a lie?
How can we wipe away the tears we never cry?

A lot of weirdoes think they're straight!
You don't need to beat your meat to masturbate!

When Yoni becomes a rubber hole,
then Lingam turns into a greasy, hot-dog pole!

Have you ever read the dirty sheet,
you know, the one where Sweet Innocence bleeds?

I read it once, but some lady kept saying,
"Sick, sick, sick was reported in Copenhagen!"

Arrogant Prophecies -- The Human Condition

[Today's installment of the "Arrogant Prophecies" is more general and philosophical. It's about what it is that drove people in the Third Galaxy to do such ugly things.

I would like to point out that the final couplet here is a repetition of the final couplet of "An Initiation". In the first poem, however, the meaning is more positive, here the realization is a negative one

But now, I will let the unknown poet speak for himself.]

"This poem describs the destructive energy which forms when the Child is wounded and healing love is not received. Or, even worse, "love" is given on condition the Child betray its integrity even more. Destructive energy can either be channeled outwardly, inwardly or both."

"The inward channeling of destructive energy can be a desperate attempt to avoid inflicting / transmitting the pain onto others -- altruistic, but not nearly as effective as it might seem. One cannot destroy oneself without also injuring others."

The whale is a belly dark
and horribly bloody bites the grey and hungry shark.

But misery within the human heart
groans the world to death and tears it all apart.

The sound of rolling thunder across
an empty sky reminds me how our lives are tossed
by storms, the source of which was torn
into the hearts of children lost and long forlorn.

It seems that life stops for them.

Repeating scenes a hundred times a day, again
and again and yet once again,
they bend their precious life to numb, neurotic ends.

Having seen the apple grow,
can you tell another soul the thing you know?

What is done with no regrets;
and who would sleep in such a Procrustean bed?

____________________________________
The belly of the "whale" and the "shark" represent, I suppose, an inherent evil of physical existence. That is, the evil which can be terrible, but as it is mindless, impersonal evil, it can never be ugly in the sense that we, as humans, can perpertrate.

Arrogant Prophecies -- A Clever Device

[Today's installment of the "Arrogant prophecies" is concerned with the denial of reality as a both necessary and useful tool enabling one to be able to maintain beliefs which are not only obviously false but inconsistent with each other...

Instead of burdening you with more of my personal commentary, I will let the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy speak for himself with words he composed at another time, almost certainly long after the poem posted below.]

Authoritarian and fundamentalist mind sets -- the two are actually almost interchangeable -- are basically immature and infantile, prone to magical thinking and incapable of accepting reality as it is.

All things equal, I could care less if somebody denies reality -- why should I bother to even think about it? The thing is, all things are not equal!.

Reality and truth are kind of connected, in fact two sides of the same coin. However, authoritarians and fundamentalists dislike reality because it tends to run counter to their beliefs. That is why they so often demonstrate the annoying habit of getting "in your face" about the "truth". The honest, in fact, compassionalte reaction must be to inform them that truth requires facing reality. This is not as simple as it might sound, but one might try something like this:

If you really want to know the truth, you must face reality and reality can be a bitch when you can't face the truth. In order to face reality you must love the truth with no strings attached.

If you don't love the truth, you can't face reality and your only option is ever an increasing, ever stronger illusion. At a certain point, the strength and fascination of illusion increases until, in the end, you will not be able to break.

That is a real definition of the Hell you talk so much about!

I will freely admit that denying reality is a Clever Device. Indeed, that is why I composed this little poem for you!

I've found a very clever way
to solve all the problems facing us today!

The only thing we need to do
is deny reality -- deny that it's really true!

I started out by believing that,
"It's really true, the Earth, in fact, is really flat!"

"Anyone who sails too far from land
will fall off the edge and will never, ever, be seen again!"

"It's really such a clever device!
You just brazenly claim that lies are truth and truths are lies!"

"Rome wasn't built in a day -- but the earth was made in six"
"All those who believe in evolution are morally sick!"

"And those who say the sky is blue
are all a bunch of liberul fags and traitors to
the Cause of Liberty, Freedom and Peace!

"They outta be tortured and shot for such outrageousness!"

Arrogant Prophecies -- Da Falze Profits

The opening line of today's installment of the "Arrogant Prophecies" refers back to "Gifted Introduction" (A box of chocolates, Arrogant creams, all wrapped up in a holy roller coaster scream).

This was, according to the 3rd level footnotes in the Absolute Truth, 21st Edition, was the unknown poet's original title to his troubling and often prescient collection of 16 line poems he composed some thirty years before the ascendency of the Supreme Hole of Arrogance.

In this particular poem the author also makes use of an unusual diction which he calls in his notes a pseudo-vernacular. He states that it was used here for satiric or sarcastic effect. He names the target of his satire the elements of Dominionist theocracy in society which helped to bring about the formation of the United State of Arrogance.

Before she mutated into Arrogance, for more than two centuries one of the pillars of that fair Land of Freedom's Groundlaw was the separation of church and state. All that time, many of the strongest supporters in maintaining the necessity this separation were prominent religious leaders.

But all this changed in the years before Ronald Rexona made his appearance. Although there is considerable disagreement as to when the change began, most agree that it was sometime after the "War to Make the World Safe for Whatever".

Some point to when law was passed that the phrase, "In the Spud We trust" should be stamped on their money. Others claim it was when it the words "One nation, under Spud..." were added to their Pledge of Allegiance. In any case, the movement began to gather after the debacle in which the "War Against the Dominos" ended

Personally, I suspect the change began with the rise of the Godbiz and its most virulent forms, the sister movements of Dominionism and Reconstructionism.

The Godbiz arose when certain preachers learned how to make use of the new medium, television. They were able to reach enormous audiences and raise large amounts of money. The inflow of cash changed the Godbiz into an industry which then learned to use marketing ploys and strategies similar to those of the MegaCorps and the Bankers of Illusion. In fact, some say that the three are to some degree but facets of the same developments.

In order to understand Reconstructionism and Dominionism, one must know that from early on the Peelers believed they had a "Commission from the Holy Idaho to convert the world to their religion. The Mashers, in fact, resembled the Peelers in this way and this was at the core of a number of conflicts between the two belief systems. These conflicts were often quite violent and were one of several things instrumental in inflicting the Ultimate Wars upon that poor world -- the catastrophe from which the Third Galaxy only recovered because of the intervention of the Alien Veggies.

Reconstructionism was the efforts made to rewrite history, claiming that the Land of Freedom had arisen only by the intervention of the Great Potato so that a land could rise worthy of fulfilling the "Great Commission of the Holy Idaho". This in turn, was grist for the mill if the Dominists whose goal was to convert that land to a theocracy where the laws of the Spud would be supreme to the laws of men in general and the Groundlaw in particular.
Oddly enough, the Mashers were also infected with similar ideas, and this also contributed to those troubled times. On top of this, both Mashers and Peelers held beliefs that these terrible events were foretold in their scriptures, the Book of the Idaho and the Readings of the Masher.

In any case, the unknown poet considers all of these, whatever beliefs they professed, to be false prophets -- and that of the worst sort, that is how they understand the term themselves.

All along the Holy Roller Coast
their preachers preach and prophesy and proudly boast.

They toast the Holy Roller Coaster Toast,
"Raise your glasses and wiggle your tongues -- the Holy-Goast
wurks thru us and you'd bedder believe
or you'll be sorry when the Kingdom comes on tee-vee"

"Repeat these prayers after me
and send us money or die in sin and poverty."

"Everything we do you see
is based upon our own infallibility."

"It's all writ here in the Holy Book
and to make sure everyone unnerstand we took
upon ourselves some liberties
in translating it to fit our personalities."

"All hayl duh Holy Dhree
in ids dhrinidy: I, Myzelph, and MEE!"

_______________________________
The use of a sort of a pseudo-vernacular here was intended as satire of those who want to establish Dominionist theocracy in our fair land. To further this goal they make allies with the most corrupt figures in politics as well as the Bankers of Illusion and the other MegaCorps.

In fact, these are the very people who turned religion into Godbiz, marketing the Idaho like he was a baked potato! Everything they touch turns into a parody of the reality.

Arrogant Prophecies - The Nightmare Speaks

I am really truly beginning to wish that I had not begun on this series of postings from the "Arrogant Prophecies".

In truth, I think I understand now that the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy really meant it when he apologized for the things he seems to be forced to say. Forced? Yes, because having seen, one must bear witness. Silence is not an option. That is just as true as speaking of one million dead in Wudda-Wreck as speaking as he does here of a single victim of state-sponsored torture.

As Bernhard points out -- it is not just the leaders who lie us into submission, who bear the burden but the passive complicity of the average citizen who let ourselves be lied to.

Because the wind of night has beat
across his heart the windings of a colden heat:

The artist is a conscious fool.

Although his words may seem harsh or even somewhat cruel:
The vision is a factory hall.
where workers wait for their numbers to be called.

(See the lines of faces, rigid and blank,
they sleep alone at night in isolation tanks.)

Then all day long, their eyes are glued
to ghastly sights which flicker on the idiot-tubes...

(A girl is tied to a parrot stick,
her naked screams reveal she really doesn't like it.)

"The Hole has said that prime time
should show the punishment of economic crime"

(Did she steal a car, a loaf of bread,
or refuse to go to bed with some important hole?)

_____________________________________
One of the things of which we will almost all be Accused in the Final Analysis is: Why did you ignore atrocity while, at the same time, enjoy its fruit, even going so far as to smack your lips and ask for more bones to crunch like sweet sugar candy between your teeth.

"A parrot stick" is a fiendishly simple device for inflicting painful humiliation with a horizontal pole upon which the victim is tied. ure -- until the feet and leg muscles go into spasms. But all these kind of things are described in detailed bureaucratic jargon in the Holy Kubark.

Arrogant Prophecies - Day of the Leopard

Today's installment of the "Arrogant Prophecies" is so dark and awful, I can hardly bring myself to comment upon it other than to say that the unknown poet must have been one unhappy fellow.

In his own comment, he states that the image "The Day of the Leopard was lifted from the Book of Revulsions but he neglects to give chapter and verse as was his wont. One would think he must be referring to Revulsions 13:2. On the other hand, perhaps he got his images mixed up with Revulsions 17:3 -- this is an educated guess on my part, based on the fact that he elsewhere refers to "Madam in her Fat Car". In any case, even the casual reader must be struck by the it is rather ambivalent attitude he has towards the Book of the Holy Idaho.

I woke up this morning with a pain in my heart
and I thought to myself, "Is this how the end of the world starts?"

With rumours of wars in faraway places?
With lies, deceits and intelligence agencies kicking their traces?

With illusions planted in the minds of the people?
With abominations created in the holiest of temples?

With ancient, holy word perverted,
a generation, to terror, war and worse converted...?

These thoughts in my mind, which I'd rather not think,
are driving me crazy, completely insane and over the brink!

When the Name of the Age is "Antimony".
When the world is ruled by arrogance, ignorance and simony.

When the wings of angels lie enchained.
When the world's resources are insolently drained.

The Day of the Leopard will then come soon,
and all the world will dance to its terrible tune!

________________________________
The imaage, "Day of the Leopard" was taken from Revulsions, when brutality is unleashed with all the relentless rapacity of the Fenris. Remember the question in Yeats' "Second Coming" – "…and what rough beast is this which slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?"

Arrogant Prophecies - Remember When the Peace Began?

After a few brief glimpses of light, the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy now dives yet deeper into the darkness which tormented his soul -- in some obscure way I almost think that he enjoyed the misery of his dark visions!

That may sound like a harsh judgment, but, consider, in our wonderful real world, could such catastrophe as the unknown poet claims to see ever happen?

True, the sea levels rise even as the glaciers melt, the climate changes, weapons of ultimate mass destruction are in the hands of people certifiably insane, greed and criminal negligence rules the world -- but is there anything to get upset about? Of course not!

Who would dare to tell the tale
of logical catastrophe and love for sale?

Or speak of bellies bitter with the gall of it,
as tongues are chewed and lips are frothed with foaming spit?

Flocks of birds alight to eat
the meat of kings and taxi-drivers in the street!

"DAMN! STOP THE HAND!" We shout!
(But, it was all of us who brought it all about!)

Would you care to dare to say a word,
complaining as the excellent compelling curse
blows its melancholy tones,
as sirens wail above her dry, cemented bones?

A-dream one drawn and dusty day,
a hundred millions and more times ten have passed away.

Having feared the Day Has Come,
they run and run and run, but still and yet – they run!

_________________________________
This word barf is little more than a none too subtle rerun of images found in Revulsions, 19: 17-18

It could also resemble the kind mass hysteria seen during the Tarantella of the Middle Ages, when people imagined themselves to be wading in blood as spiders crawled up their legs. The fact is, our "world picture" is little more than shared illusions having little or nothing to do with the reality of our common humanity. You think not? Then come with a better explanation for the endemic madness of the twentieth century which left hundreds of millions dead or maimed in both body and soul. And think: does the beginning of the 3rd millennium hold better promise?

As always, we'll cry, "NO!" and beg the Great Potato to "stop the hand" before it touches our illusions.
And yet, as always, we will continue to do those very things which bring the madness upon us. We are like people who wallow in shit and beg for the "Lord" to make us clean, but refuse to leave our pile of shit because that is where we keep our "precious doodads" and "thing-um-jigs".

Arrogant Prophecies - The Truth...

¨I am at loss to understand what the unknown poet is babbling on about in this installment of the Arrogant Prophecies.

You can read his own notes, if you care to take the time, but I doubt it will be of any use or value. Frankly, this whole "thing" the unknown poet has with "spirituality" leaves me cold. It's as if he believes that "spirituality" is a thing in itself, which can be addressed without regard to any external religious figure or authority. Why, if we were to carry his viewpoint to its logical conclusion, we have no need for prophets, bibles, pontiffs, priests, or any sacrament other than the fact of life itself!

That is just too scary!

Why, one might even think that if we were to destroy our precious planet that no one would come and kiss our thumb, wipe our bum and fix it up right for us!

Seriously, all snark aside, the only fact of which we can be sure is the fact of life itself -- everything else is conjecture!

The power of which you think to speak
was writ upon the thumb of some computer freak.

It's implied that every one of us
must put our faith, hopes, dreams and even trust
into the hands of a Boy Named Jim,
or Jack or maybe even Bill—in hope that sins,
acquired through years of fragrant fears,
will simply gather up their skirts and disappear.

It may be true, but is it likely – no!

Take a look around and see what it is we really do!
We fan the flames and claim the blame
could never stick to the soles of our teflon shoes!

The truth is hard to bend, my friend,
but once you've seen its lonely glowing in the dark,
you'll never ever really rest
until you've finally found it in your secret heart.

__________________________________________
It's a fact, the Truth, rarely follows such words as: "the truth...".
This poem turns upon an ambiguous meaning of what is meant by "power". Immediately it would seem to have something to do with computers, and yet the general drift of the poem makes it clear that it is also meant in what we have to call a spiritual sense. What I think is meant is that we have a sad tendency to abdicate our responsibility especially in spiritual and ethical matters to others.
Whatever we say about what we believe, our acts and daily lives show that our faith is often in other things.

False prophets will tell you that if you say "Idaho, Idaho", along with a phrase or two they made up while moving their bowels, and you feel a chilly thrill run up your spine while uttering gibberish glossalia like "walla-walla shaballa..." you are "reborn" and, having received the gift of the "Holy Wind", are saved from the Evil Dominion. This is, of course, complete and utter bullshit they have construed from garbage they found laying around in their own minds.

But all such is to be expected. The ancient teachers tell us that when the Seat of Solomon is vacant, a certain barf-face demon will sit upon the throne for the space of an hour and proclaim, "I am Solomon!" Or, as the Idaho reportedly spoke: "In those days many will come saying [that] I am the Idaho" (Math 24:5)

Arrogant Prophecies - Wither Goest Thou?

In this installment of the Arrogant Prophecies, the unknown poet addresses a subject on which there is some dispute -- when was the critical moment which made the rise of the Supreme Hole inevitable?.

Some experts maintain that it was the events of Terrible Tuesday which sealed the fate of that fair land which, under the misrule of the Great Decider, morphed into the United State of Arrogance. However, even with the modest understanding I have of the Third Galaxy from my access to the 21st Edition of the Absolute Truth, this is a truth with a lot of footnotes!

As far as I can tell, this dichotomy was present from the very beginning when the idea of a self-governing republican democracy was snatched from the whirlwinds of history. The institution of slavery was not addressed when the country was founded and this inevitably led to conflicts which were temporarily resolved in the Great Civil War. On the surface, the result of this war was the cementing of equality, liberty and justice as the cornerstone of our fair land.

However, the reality was something else. War always means destitution for the many and enormous profits for the few. What happened is that the enormous wealth garnered during the four years the civil war lasted took on a sort of life of its own. For the first time in history, corporations were recognized as judicial entities on equal foot with actual human beings. This meant that corporations became, in effect, essentially immortal beings of enormous wealth and power. In the end, as it had to be, the MegaCorps arose and it was they who controlled the politics as well as the economy of much of the Third Galaxy -- that is, until Ronald Rexona's ascendance as Supreme Hole and Decider of what then became known as "The United State of Arrogance".

Arrogance, wither goest thou?

Do you understand, or even know, exactly how
you came to this point in time and space?

Even now, you hold the destiny of the entire human race
in your gentle hands -- or iron fist!

Being forced to make such terrible choice -- will you resist?

Upon your brow, that shining star
proves: "A Nation Under God", you surely are!

Is it the God of the prophets and priests?
Or is it the "god" of a somewhat rougher and crueller beast?

In the end, which will you truly serve?
Will it be a Crown of Glory -- or shame -- you will deserve?

When I pray, "God Bless!" from my heart of grief,
These wounds in my hands are those of a robber and a thief!

In the end, when all is said and done,
it's what we do, and not what we say, which proves who won!

______________________________________________
It truly pains me to write lines like that – but what can I do? Can I lie and say it doesn't matter?

Even before Terrible Tuesday, back before the Wall fell and the United Slovenly Socialist Republics collapsed into chaos and the new dictatorship began to rise from the ashes. It was all so obvious!

It was like I could hear the turnings of an immense clockwork. And then came Terrible Tuesday -- the shallowness of that foolish man became as obvious as the smell of luncheon meat gone weeks past its "use-before" date.

I saw my beloved country, the Lady of Light and Liberty at a terrible cross-roads. It was as if which path she would choose had already been chosen for her by reptilian shape-changers who had taken control

Arrogant Prophecies - Thorn of Gold

As I have written earlier, the "Arrogant Prophecies" descends deeper and deeper into nightmare vision. However, it was the express intention of the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy to resolve this poem cycle with light and hope for a better day. Personally, I don't think he was exactly successful in this regard. However, for what it's worth, today's installment does contain a small glint of sunlight.

The author's own notes pretty much clarify the poem. However, his use of the term "bloody crutch" requires some clarification. Although it may be hard for people in our world to grasp it, the Peelers had the strangest idea about the death of the Holy Idaho. According to their orthodox theology, the Great Potato had actually commanded the death of his "Only Sprouted Spud" as a sacrifice to wash away the evil deeds of human kind in the Third galaxy!

I know how ridiculous this sounds but it harks back the to the general misunderstanding of the meaning of the story of Broken Wing and Laughing boy. Broken Wing, as you recall was taken with the insane idea that the Almighty Spud had commanded him to cut the throat his only son and burn the corpse as a sacrifice to the Eternal. That story had a happy ending. The story of the Idaho did not.

The Thorn of Gold is a Burning Wind

The very winds hold their breath
while those who trade in slaves are doing their awful best.

They're a clutch of holes who preach to us
that all the things we think we want to do – we MUST!

That's such a funny thing to say
on such a quietly peaceful summer day!

Sometimes it is the strangest things
that turn your life about and make the soul sing.

Perhaps I am, as it's been said,
a wusssy, thinking to walk where better blood's been bled.

Their laughter burns like thorns into the night,
as I write these lines, as I try to get them right.

Angels do as they are told,
but human love is made of finely-hammered gold.

The priceless pearl remains untouched
until the cripple throws away his bloody crutch!

____________________________________
"...such a quietly peaceful summer day" – the "calm before the storm" is a theme common to most literature about disasters and not just the apocalyptic. The point here is that, up until the time the toilet flushes and holy shit starts to roar down the tube, everything is just fine -- that is, in those parts of the world under the control of the Supreme Hole.

Whatever it is that is coming (and I assure you, I neither do, nor want to know!) it will come on a sudden, seemingly out of the blue. There is really no reason to try to figure it out. It is not a divine screenplay unfolding – one might as well try to calculate the path of a bolt of lightning. The coming events are the confluence of a thousand million wills expressed in our daily lives. They press the fabric of reality, like waves on a dike or magma against a plug in a caldera.

Our only hope is that, by some sweet chance, enough of the dreamers suddenly awake -- but what will it take? I shudder to think of what it could be!

Arrogant Prophecies - Booger on the Bone

When you read today's installment of the "Arrogant Prophecies", "Booger on the Bone", the question should occur to you -- why "obscene atrocities"?

Are not all atrocities obscene?

Perhaps the unknown poet is thinking of atrocities unnamed or not seen as such because they are perpertrated in awful public view and called "justice", "defending the faith", "defending freedom" or simply "business as usual".

The unkonwn poet's notes here give some ides as to what is meant by "source of boogers" and "booger on the bone". Although somewhat egnimatic, the usually reliable Elmer Eggplant goes even further and writes, "...the source or "quelle" of spiritual reality is in the bone and flesh which another philospher referred to as "these bloody truths. If we cannot accept -- in fact, embrace -- our mortality, all talk of Eternal Spud is complete and utter bullshit of the worst sort."

On Alpha Ralpha Boulevard,
a lonely freak exclaimed, "I know that times are hard!"

"But these obscene atrocities
are getting on the nerves of simple folk like me!"

"Almost everyone I know pretends
the source of boogers in the nose will never end!"

"They imply, in fact, with all their games
that dirty water doesn't flow down the drain!"

"Green is green and white is white;
I have no cause or hidden need to pick a fight!"

But still, it's hard to stand the sight
of people headed empty to the longest night!"

"Grass will grow where it's been sown;
but, what is understood before it has been known?

Can there be meat without a bone?
Can you find your rest if you have never found your home?"

_________________________________________
As you know, I do not believe in the Idaho in the sense that he is the actual, literal "Only Sprouted Spud of the Great Potato". You should be aware however of use of the theme of skin, flesh and bone or bone marrow in stories about the disciples of spiritual masters and teachers. The point in such stories is that some disciples understand their teacher skin-deep, some have grasped his flesh, but very few get down to the bone.

Of the disciples of Idaho, it seems to have been only Tom the Doubter and Flipper who grasped something of the marrow [both sadly neglected in the canonized texts].

Arrogant Prophecies - Hungry Freaks

At the beginning of the "Arrogant Prophecies" the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy, apologized for revealing to us the visions which troubled him.

The reader by now begins to understand that this was not simply a rhetorical device on his part. With each installment, the pictures become darker and more nightmarish. They sometimes bear an eerie resemblance to the science fiction worlds of such writers as Cordwainer Smith and C. M. Kornbluth. There is nothing odd in this -- I can hardly be the only one to ever channel information from the Third Galaxy!

"Hungry Freaks" describes a world regimented by conglomerated economic entities and everyone has their personal identification imbedded in the body. As a sop to the illusion of freedom, the people are guaranteed such basic necessities as the "right to see" and the "right to eat". However, although the "right to see" is irrevocable, the "right to eat" can be lost. The reason for this is simple: all the "right to eat" actually entailed was being able to collect food from the Food Stores -- what we would call a supermarket. The "customers" would take down the Cruchies, Munchies, Popsies, Drinkies and Smokies from the shelves and put them in the shopping cart. At the check-out stand, they simply put their hand under the scanner.

The amount was then automatically registered to their individual account. With a system like this, with everyone more or less living off the cuff, most common folk were always in debt to the MegaCorps. In their benevolence, the MegaCorps rarely called for immediate payment and it was only "troublesome" people who ever had their accounts canceled. This was indeed a serious matter and such folk, known in the common parlance as "freaks" had great difficulty in getting food. In general though, it was an excellent system with little visible public unrest -- whatever riots which may have occurred were of course never shown on the obsequious public television screens. Television was very important in maintaining this system, therefore the "right to see" was inviolable -- in fact, it was a serious crime to turn off a television.

As the unknown poet left almost no notes to this particular poem, I have had to confine myself to that which I know to be the case in the Third Galaxy from other sources. Elmer Eggplant, who is probably the most cogent commentator on the "Arrogant Prophecies" maintains that the idea for this particular poem is taken from the Book of the Holy Idaho, Revulsions 13:11-18, to be exact. This may well be the case, as the unknown poet was known to often make use of images from the Book of the Idaho.

Most commentators in the Third Galaxy, however, draw a blank as to the meaning of "kringleberries". One commentator, not otherwise generally recognized for reliability, points to the final lines in the "Imbuggeration" and claims that "kringleberries" refer to human brains. This seems rather ghoulish as well as ridiculous, however, "super secret atrocities" does appear in both places, therefore I mention it.

It was the Eighteenth Year of the First World Peace
and everyone was working for the Money Machine.

True, there were some hungry freaks,
but that was only because they'd lost their "right-to-eat".

Without a microchip in their hand,
no one would dare to stick it under the check-out stand.

(The steel jaws of the Money Machine
hide below the supermarket data screens!)

If I. T. responds that you can't pay,
I. T. clamps and holds you tight until they take you away.

When it's found that you're not "registered",
the Wish of the Supreme Hole will then be heard!

(These super secret atrocities,
are cutely disguised as National Security!)

Far below the clicking relays,
the Wish slowly strips delicate kringleberries...

____________________________________________
I.T. (pronounced: "aye tee") = information technology

Arrogant Prophecies - The Scarecrow Speaks

"The Scarecrow Speaks" is strange in that it seems to conflate personal and subjective experience with general and objective experience.

Judging from other material attributed to the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy, it would seem that "Soft as snow the powder falls..." refers to the promises of childhood which are all too often betrayed and broken -- this will become more apparent in later installments.

On the other hand, the poem does seems to talk about a world wide event where survivors hang on to a pitiful existence of some sort in shelters. Still, it could also be seen as a picture of the loneliness, the true hell of being separated from our common humanity. In any case, the unknown poet's own commentary here is, once again, both short and cryptic.

What I can understand from the various commentators is that the unknown poet's view is that the subjective is not separate from the objective. The two are entertwined and nourish each other. If one understands the subjective, one must also garner insights into the objective. This is why poets often show flashes of prolepsis -- it is an, albeit troublesome, frequent side effect of understanding.

Soft as snow, the powder falls,
far below, a witless scarecrow sits and calls:

"For love, for mercy, for God's sake!
Don't leave me here, alone, with nothing left to fake!

"I used to be a little boy
and I played with all the usual kinds of boy's toys"

"But now, these past seventeen years,
I've lived alone, with all my well-grounded fears."

"None are left to comfort me,
and those who could have gone away eternally."

"Or else, like me, have hid so as not to taste
the dry, grey dust which falls and lays life waste."

"O my God! What is this ape,
which murders, burns, kills and rapes the land, the earth --
our Mother, the very scene of birth!

I hear Heaven gasp, "Its pretty name is now a curse!"

_____________________________________
"What is this ape..." indeed! The devil which religious charlatans cream in their jeans over is not some supernatural creature from Hell's non-dimensional world. It is that part of our nature which will destroy us and possibly our planet as well if we do not learn to recognize it for what it is -- our Shadow!

Arrogant Prophecies - Spell of Bad Weather

Unfortunately, today's installment from the "Arrogant Prophecies" is about something where the Third Galaxy is a bit too parallel for comfort.

Remember the bad old days our world was infested with acronyms like, ICBM, MIRV and MAD? In those ancient dark ages we lived our daily lives with the knowledge that we could destroy our beautiful world several hundreds of times over.

Today, our future is so much brighter! We would be hard pressed to render our earth uninhabitable more than thirty or forty times over.

It's hard to imagine how things were worse in the Third Galaxy, but I assure you they were, without the intervention of the Alien Veggies, the Third Galaxy would have cease to exist. To quote from the unknown poet, "...do you really think the insanity simply picked up its skirts and waltzed away with the fall of the Berlin Wall and the end of the Cold War?"

The bottom line is that we could still be in for a Spell of Bad Weather:

Those who listened, heard the sound
of ten-thousand alphabets buried underground.

Between each breath and then the next
were chained at least a million screaming mega-death.

The explanation, if you please,
was worthy of a dirty, greedy little beast.

"To save the world and Win-the-Peace,
all the world must be fried in bacon-grease!"

Himmler giggled and the Leader laughed
when R. & D. unveiled the clean, neutron bath.

"It's more efficient than any gas!
It's delivery capability is very fast!"

It was written on the rocket ramps,
"All the world is our concentration camp!"

Below was scrawled the dire consequence,
"All the world is our gas chamber!"

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"R & D" = "Research and Development".

"Clean neutron bath" refers to the neutron bombs -- a satanic class of weapons which unleash most of their energy not as an explosion, but as a flash of electromagnetic radiation, mostly gamma and X-rays. The death pulse kills, with exquisite pain, all human and animal flesh. Physical l infrastructures and other things of "value" are left intact. Any Hitler worth his dance would ejaculate multiple times in his tighty whities at the prospect of such a weapon.

Arrogant Prophecies - The Edible Garbage Conspiracy

Have you heard the story about the bum who stumbles into a saloon and begs for a drink, "I'll do anything for a drink!"

"Yeah," sneers the barkeep, "see that spittoon over there? Drink from that and I'll give you a drink."

The stumble bum grabs the spittoon and starts to drink, his Adams apple bobs as he gulps.

"Hey wait, stop," cries the barkeep, "that was just a joke! Here, I'll pour you a shot of whiskey!"

But bum keeps on drinking and finally puts the spittoon down -- empty...

"Jeeze, guy," said the amazed barkeep, "why didn't you stop? Didn't you hear me say you could have a drink?

"Sure," replied the bum reaching for the whiskey, "but it all came out in one piece!"

This is kind how I feel about the "Arrogant Prophecies" series. Now that I've started, I can't stop -- it's like it all wants to come out in one piece.

In itself, that would be no problem, it's just that the visions of the unknown poet in the Third Galaxy who composed these poems are so starkly dark and twisted. I can't understand how he was able live all his adult with such insights into the spiritus mundi of the time in which he lived. He much have ended up banging his head against the wall in futility.

In any case, "The Edible Garbage Conspiracy" at first seems to be about the degradation of industrial food, however, I believe he is perhaps referring to the food of which the "Holy Idaho" spoke. My reason is that he immediately conflates the "edible garbage" theme with another of his recurring themes -- that we are all responsible in smaller and greater ways for the fate of the world we share in our common humanity.

The Edible Garbage Conspiracy

I went to get me something to eat,
but my appetite diminished when I saw the meat!

The government inspected flesh,
smelled of old pig guts and bad breath.
The food was more than unclean,
it was flavor accentuated, preprocessed protein.

Whoever has to eat the stuff,
needs to hold their nose to keep from throwing up!
But then, I got a steady job
pushing buttons and twisting calibrated knobs.

It was nice, but then I heard a sob...
I looked behind my desk and found a tender blob.
The blob -- it was our Mother Earth.
The sob -- a wail of tears that burst into a curse.

My job was composed of ritual motions
sending dark bombers cruising across distant oceans.

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Start with an industrial food industry: where flesh is ground through mechanical abattoirs; dosed with this, that and what not to make it appetizing and even vitamin enriched. Shift the focus quickly from "them" to "us". Things taken down from shelves at the local Warr-Mart are usually not directly harmful to health. However the ugly which procures it is hidden and trivialized with odd tales like that of "Charley the Tuna"

Even the most "innocent job" can be connected with oppression, slavery and atrocities involving us in complicities in which we would fain take part or know about. At the end of the day, that which is destroying the world is the sum of all greed -- a force tectonic in its magnitude.

Arrogant Prophecies -- He was a Friend of Mine

I know for a fact that today's installment of the Arrogant Prophecies of the Third Galaxy was composed by the unknown poet at least twenty years before Terrible Tuesday.

In that context I find it uncanny how he captured something of the essence of the programs of abduction, rendering, secret incarceration, torture and concentration camps set in motion by Ronald Rexona and his Evil Companion, "Big" Dick Snarly.

The amazing thing is how they and their neo-cunz supporters were able to do this in plain view, transforming the Land of Light and Liberty into the United State of Arrogance when Monstrous Monday occurred most conveniently nearly seven years after Terrible Tuesday.

The answer is that very much of this was done with smoke and mirrors -- many of the chains they were forging were called by other names such as "homeland security", "protecting freedom and democracy", "patriotism", "fighting evil" and, of course, "supporting the troops".

Also, many things were hidden from public overview in the Chambers of Secrecy and the Bankers of Illusion, as long as the bottom lines were solidly black, were only too happy to play along with any deception, keept the public in happy ignorance of what the Project for the New Arrogant Century really entailed.

One fact that is not obvious, unless you dig down into the footnotes of the Absolute Truth, 21st Edition, is that many politicians who did not actively support the insane policies of the Supreme Hole but were complicit in their silence, were literally blackmailed into submission by information gleaned from illegal data mining.

He was a Friend of Mine

A friend of mine, a foreign man,
wrote upon the wall a super-secret plan.

But walls have ears, and now I hear
he's "disappeared" and won't be seen again this year...

Perhaps, you think the story stinks
and raise your glass to take another bitter drink?

Do you think that you can take your rest
and leave your other brothers and sisters to stand the test?

It could be Circus Maximus,
or maybe just a chocolate-flavored laxative!

As the football fields resound with farts,
your mind boggles, bursts and slowly falls apart...

You understand, but then you doubt
and a thousand-million jelly beans begin to shout:

"The food you steal is the food we eat!
Give it back to us, pretty, pretty please!"

_________________________________________
A friend? Well, I only knew him slightly. He was arrested and held for a year and a half on suspicion of terrorism. Then, without warning or any charges ever brought against him, he was deported back to his homeland where he dropped out of sight.

Was he "rendered", was he "disappeared", was he a terrorist? I'll never know.

What I do know is that things happen we'd rather not know. We're afraid something might touch our soul, so we pop a bag of chips and reach for the zapper instead...
As always, "jelly beans" is a near homonym for "human beings". The point is this: When the media stew has an after taste of oppression, or that crunch of bones which atrocity adds to the stew, we shout in horror, perhaps even outrage -- but for a moment only -- how quickly the Bankers of Illusion get us to fall back into apathy.

The Holy Idaho once told a story about ten people he cured of skin disease by getting them to take regular baths. When only one of the sick came back to thank him, the Idaho exclaimed, "Were there not ten? Where are the other nine?" (Look 17:17)

[Why the unknown poet at the end of his comments here suddenly refers to a parable of the Idaho is beyond me -- if you have any ideas, please let me know.]