Suicide notes are love letters
Feelings rushing and spilling
The deepest cares and regrets
‘It was special – the way we met’
Most sincere wishes for the future
How rich and profound you have all made my short time here
How sure I am of the beautiful things to come
I leave you with my heart more open
Than it ever could have been in life.
I am LAM-ELISA
A simple biological test for the presence of one particular molecule.
Used worldwide to screen for tuberculosis.
Someone tells me that in one of the tens of thousands of locations where I have been utilized,
There is a human called Elisa Lam who died in a hotel nearby.
Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later.
Although slavery, oppression, and torture are never going away; are a part of existence that can’t be boxed up and chained in a padded room…
And that while there is no moral objectivity; that goodness and beauty are relative…
Nevertheless the point is to strive to be the most beautiful, joyously compassionate power in the world,
While always being aware of how absurd your own striving for beauty is, and how your compassion and love is just a joke in the face of the universe,
And this feeds into your absurd, insane, dazzling and confounding glory.
So fight slavery and suffering and evil in all its forms,
Knowing that you are exactly as powerless to the utter cosmic meaninglessness of it all as the people who cling to exploitation and cruelty.
But you look good, and crazy, and laughing, as you dance into the same oblivion.
The Zen initiate Pat was studying a book of koans, and folding the corners of pages that he found particularly meaningful.
Pat’s Master noticed this behaviour, and she approached Pat and twisted his ear. Pat yelped and his Master returned to her room.
During their next study meeting, Pat asked what the purpose of this was. His Master said: “My most dim-witted students must be marked.”
With this, Pat had great satori.
“Chocolate spread” he said
And watched with an empty expression
As she gleefully
Licked the marmite off his knife
In one graceful motion.
This is a tongue-in-cheek story roughly based on some choice ayahuasca trip reports.
Please do not take it too seriously.
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Content notice: Racism, misogyny.
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The bile pours out of his mouth into the plastic bucket
“No more!” is this boy’s mantra
But it keeps coming…
And the icaros continue…
Plaguing him with their terrifying Spanish-ness.
The headdress makes the shaman look like the devil.
Their savage superstitions are killing him!
They’re
Too senile to understand their hypocrisy
Too long gone to see the destruction behind them
Too blind to know their stupidity
The buffoon dies quietly in his home
The despot lies dead in a ditch
The bigot sits in his next throne
No hell for them
Nothing would work
To make them see
To make them regret
This is the shadow
It is formless and dead
It cannot transform
They’re stuck
And we’re stuck with them.
The Mandelbrot set
“is the visualisation of the space between nothing and infinity.”
= everything we know and everything we can’t know.
= the reason we ask the question.
= the mandala that is set in stone
yet flows through our fingers.
-> It is the tattoo that will burn into my skin until I have to
claw
it
out
.
but it is cast
in my bones.
Lying in soft grass
under the old, glowing sun
Beneath the layered canopies
of the garden of paradise
I wait for the next breeze
To remind me of god
And gently brush away my burns
you thought the Plant had shown you the way
confirmed your true self
condensed your boundaries, sharpened your ego
but the Creator plays games
serving greater machinations
and you are not
immune
a used weapon
soon you will sink in tar
enjoying your reflection
in the plastic crown She gave you
Pat's Hyperbolic Arboretum 