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Jon Rappoport at his best.

Someone came down and took a tour of the planet. This was after the collapse and the chaos and the ascendance of new gods and it was after the renaissance of the old gods and their destruction as well. Someone came down and toured the landscapes.

The landscapes were made of the material of the bodies and brains and minds and memories and thoughts of the old inhabitants. The landscapes were made of their passive indifference and their whining and complaining and their beliefs that nothing could be done to change the course of history, but of course history is always in flux.

Someone came down and explored and investigated the depth of the old inhabitants’ acquiescence. Someone came down and explored their acceptance of things as they were. Someone examined their final willingness to be absorbed into the mass, the group, and to develop a steady-state amnesia about their own individual power to create something far, far different from the collective space-time machine they came to call Love, at the very last, at the very last moments before the collapse.

He made notes and returned to the place from which he came…

THE STATE wants to take you into the great glob
The Velveeta cosmic glut

THE STATE loves you and wants to put you in a cradle and play quiet music and bring down the stars and put them in your hand
IT wants you to do nothing because nothing is easy
IT wants you to think nothing and listen to your mind scraping against itself like a worn wheel

Just read words
Just read words
Just read words
And let them sink, let them sink to the bottom of the well where they drop out of sight

Go on as if nothing has happened
Nothing has happened
It was all an illusion

The buildings will take you in
The offices will take you in
The workers will take you in
Go on as if nothing has happened

Look at the wooden face of the President
Look at the wooden faces of the Congress
Look at the wooden faces of the Supreme Court Justices
Look at the wooden faces of the FBI
Look at the wooden face of God

Nothing has happened
It was all an illusion
A long time ago something may have happened
But since then the quiet has increased

THE STATE has taken over
How could it have been any other way
There is absolutely nothing to worry about
Or
There is everything to worry about
But they are equal
They are the same
champions of equilibrium
There is nothing
Gigantic and dangerous
Waiting for you to invent it
There is nothing you need to do
THE STATE and THE UNIVERSE will take care of you in a great ice cream park

The sand on the beach will grind down into water and the water will turn into sand in the job called the mind

That is your job achieving a great equality of mind

And occasionally in the middle of the night
You can shout
What can we do
What can we do
What can we do
What can we do

And you can expect an answer

And you can listen
And listen
And listen

And then you can discover inch by inch that contrary to everything you believe you are talking
To yourself

Not anyone else
No one else
Nothing else

That was all an illusion

Your hand reaching out in the darkness
Is a hand of entreaty, an old-master hand
A hand pleading
Your case

And then the fingers curl
And you feel
Coming up through your spine
The unwanted electricity of a heroic gesture

Which according to the library of all facts is entirely obsolete
It would be mad to feel it
It would be a betrayal
A mark of insanity
A thousand mile an hour roll of the dice

It would be
Action
taken without consultation
destroying the symmetry of
WE

Destroying the blank face on the blank building in the blank city

These are the mantras:
You are nothing
You make nothing
You invent nothing

You accept what
spools you out
A long thread in a dead loom

You accept that all words are dead before they are spoken
You quietly know all there is to know

You are Citizen

 

Jon Rappoport

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