The Consciousness of our time

EPL- INFORMATION FOR YOUR BUILDING SOUL The consciousness Have you ever smelled the fresh hot steam roll off of a freshly pressed embroidered T-shirt? Does it know the value of living in the here and now? Maybe there is no value? Staring down as close as you possibly can with fresh new eyes a moment. Down Into the sunlit cracks of hills, valleys and boulders found in 1 square inch in your backyard. A moment that seems well documented but with no false credentials, no Phd. Perhaps it is the arbitrary entity which makes up the laws of matriculation? Did you feel compelled to draw yourself ever closer to the event? What’s happening now. In the hot seat! So that you could live that much closer to the event just prior to that hot steam scolding the cheek of your “good eye”? Where was it then? Curiously evaluating you? Did you ever have more curiosity of how the fallen loser felt while stumbling out of an event? The impact and if there truly would be any? Was it planting the seeds and presupposing it’s own version of you ghosting over you like tracing paper? Is it a machine? Was any of it ever really truly real? More so how real does it have to be to be real enough to matter? In those successive and fresh moments that lead into the days and months of how “the loser” (specifically) in day to day ‘life’ was impacted and their experience more so how they felt? Does that matter. Or must it all be matter based to matter as event? Much more the refraction of it (a lesson, a loss, an action, a nuisance) as an entity clung in and around the field with a morbid curiosity? How is it the one with peculiar meddling affiliation would eclipse your divine wonder oh finite child? Watching with total clarity perhaps the consciously unconscious ‘dead person’. Smelling the room. Feeling the intentions of that pathologist with a ready sharpened tool or blade? The end of that ear, that nose. Seeming once such a unique identity…fever. Now discarded like fancy perishable trash. The induction of the end in culminate. Yet Still alive as ever! In fact still quite living under that buzz of a freshly born baby with all that amnesia. No petitioner for rights. No performance of a court. That massive clock dial ticking loudly and the moments lost forever as that “specific one”. Are we just a hodgepodge of binary numbers set in organic matter from a periodic chart? But would it come again? The dripping of that polluted water spout somewhere lost in time. The burning smell of that 5 hours old coffee? The office every day at the station…work. Laying inanimate and for all intents and purposes (here) quite dead. Your blood that circulated in such a momentive rush with all the excited impulse of a child rushing home to unleash his first days events upon the icon of his Mother now pooled and static but still there and cold. The rush is still there, and so the youth yet proclaimed DOA. Moments transitioning. Turning on themselves. Particles transmuting and valor assessed by the false proclivity [of] posing authoritarians unexpected cutting off that (drag) trickle of supply. Was it sitting there then? Was someone watching it?! Unexpected events. Unwarranted visitations. An unpredictable succession and digression of impulse and thoughts…a life shortened(!) quite intentionally and subverted for works (of a macro agenda) that views no value here and now. Certainly not in you. A presence always presiding More stagnant than death More malingering than coal Sitting there like a black soot cloud Waiting Unfeeling However charting Always scribing in its way How present are we truly? How in control of the context of the moment are YOU really? More so your body may crush under the influence and spasm to relent but your mind and it’s string was never altered, never broken not once! It looks on and you do not even see it then! The emotions of a licking dog quite present in the animal aspects moments of a day. However the intellect an unacknowledged unwilling rider who should have always in every moment been full well in control. Why is the intellect thrown into the backseat of every taxi ride? Even if a book is being written based solely upon it (as the specter) the animal’s primming and the stomaches aching and the demons mocking always take precedence above it. Still it watches on Watching and charting Evaluating and marking The hours of our time