Searching Soul
08-19-2015, 02:53 AM
Three mountains short of sunshine valley I found myself amused by the animated corpse that I was dissecting that bloody morning. Even more, the forecast for that day was spectacular, and even Charlie, he who was with Corey, wouldn’t sneak away from his task of asking prostitutes the same question’s over and over again.
Drained of vitality through vast times of repeated sorrow, terror, envy, lust, and the will to live, the child showed his mother how she died, and in one sense, he showed her the way to it.
Corey was what the Republic deemed “transminded". And one of his habits was to pray to his Father Charlie and Uncle Jack, and to ask them if his sin of enjoying the odor of a decaying body would make God punish him, for Corey was culled and compelled to climax when rotting bodies gave him that sweet perfume of the never again and the no more. He feasted on death as a babe on his mothers fresh milk. He cried when he thought of his uncle Jack, the man responsible for the whole occasion of Corey’s queer circumstance in the recorded history of facts, and the strange and astonishing influence he had on the Republic.
You see, when Corey moved further into his “friend space”, a place he shared in transminded unity with Charlie, he moved further into his isolation, and repeatedly he knew he was The One of History ( or TOH, the Republic’s most marketable God/superhero) and would forget it when forgetting granted him favorable circumstances. These favorable circumstances were of great joy to the Republic for it possessed the vitality and aim of a greater future for mankind.
Corey never lost. That’s a fact. Whatever losses came to him would return to him, and he would dispense with them and his profit would loom bigger than the many Mansions he had built for him by the people of the Republic.
Whether dealing with people, money, or the vitally important new transformation of man, in which all but a few had to be deleted or everyone would die, as of course he knew all too well from his Uncle Jack - a man who had desired to assemble and lead army’s of the greatest men to battle and to watch the bloody fruits of his unique labor crushing the enemy with power never before seen, which came with marvelous, mass production of products and people, including the eventual production and consumption of his own life and that off all his children…. and….
It was Corey’s conviction to never run away from his task, and across the way he found a dying planet, a dying mother, a living order, and a new power. We all know of course, that in year 2123 a different planet from the earth as we knew it was discovered (or was it invented?) by a form of life, that through its very nature was only made possible if human life delivered diminishing returns all the way to its complete demise.
Now for a long time it has occurred to all who observe with sincerity that this most recent of species lives as though it has been nestled in long embrace with the planet’s sickly womb, and as agents of this womb it does find aggression and excitement among its most ambitious members. Mother earth, her sons, and her daughters kill each other for sport on a regular basis now, though little of it is seen or even talked about. Even the Republic is destroying itself completely.
Nothing was remembered of us, or the species of which erupted from earth in revolution with, and in partnership with, the Republic. We ourselves died our death. We were slowly deleted from the production of life. We remember nothing, and rightly so.
Drained of vitality through vast times of repeated sorrow, terror, envy, lust, and the will to live, the child showed his mother how she died, and in one sense, he showed her the way to it.
Corey was what the Republic deemed “transminded". And one of his habits was to pray to his Father Charlie and Uncle Jack, and to ask them if his sin of enjoying the odor of a decaying body would make God punish him, for Corey was culled and compelled to climax when rotting bodies gave him that sweet perfume of the never again and the no more. He feasted on death as a babe on his mothers fresh milk. He cried when he thought of his uncle Jack, the man responsible for the whole occasion of Corey’s queer circumstance in the recorded history of facts, and the strange and astonishing influence he had on the Republic.
You see, when Corey moved further into his “friend space”, a place he shared in transminded unity with Charlie, he moved further into his isolation, and repeatedly he knew he was The One of History ( or TOH, the Republic’s most marketable God/superhero) and would forget it when forgetting granted him favorable circumstances. These favorable circumstances were of great joy to the Republic for it possessed the vitality and aim of a greater future for mankind.
Corey never lost. That’s a fact. Whatever losses came to him would return to him, and he would dispense with them and his profit would loom bigger than the many Mansions he had built for him by the people of the Republic.
Whether dealing with people, money, or the vitally important new transformation of man, in which all but a few had to be deleted or everyone would die, as of course he knew all too well from his Uncle Jack - a man who had desired to assemble and lead army’s of the greatest men to battle and to watch the bloody fruits of his unique labor crushing the enemy with power never before seen, which came with marvelous, mass production of products and people, including the eventual production and consumption of his own life and that off all his children…. and….
It was Corey’s conviction to never run away from his task, and across the way he found a dying planet, a dying mother, a living order, and a new power. We all know of course, that in year 2123 a different planet from the earth as we knew it was discovered (or was it invented?) by a form of life, that through its very nature was only made possible if human life delivered diminishing returns all the way to its complete demise.
Now for a long time it has occurred to all who observe with sincerity that this most recent of species lives as though it has been nestled in long embrace with the planet’s sickly womb, and as agents of this womb it does find aggression and excitement among its most ambitious members. Mother earth, her sons, and her daughters kill each other for sport on a regular basis now, though little of it is seen or even talked about. Even the Republic is destroying itself completely.
Nothing was remembered of us, or the species of which erupted from earth in revolution with, and in partnership with, the Republic. We ourselves died our death. We were slowly deleted from the production of life. We remember nothing, and rightly so.