What Comes Down Must Rise Again

The duplicitous machinations of the insane elitists who menacingly hover above and methodically trample upon the downtrodden masses careen carelessly down the ever widening scope of masochistic malfeasance, crushing everything within a thousand mile vicinity with hobnailed boots of black-hearted doom. Nowhere to turn. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Cornered. Like a rat. Starving for its piece of the cheese. Ready to violently strike out. Lips snarling. Fangs flashed. Blood on the teeth. Knife to the neck. A shadowy sanctimonious scene silhouetted against the backdrop of a noose which is tied around the throat of a suffocating last gasp. The only question that remains is what happens next? Will the overworked, exhausted lungs collapse? Or will the animalistic rabies be delivered unto the enemy’s veins with a viscous bite?

Flow with me to the next level of consciousness where we can dine on the density of divinity and feel the tangible effects wash over our vibrating forms. Come and taste of the higher transmissions. Having our cake and eating it too, despite what the parasitic leeches of royalty deign to utter from their ivory towers. Wet tongues press up against hot metal and lick the sparkplug accelerator. Star shot nebulas reach fruition, blooming behind the cosmic curtains. Zooming around in a lucid dream. Picking up steam and then blowing it off. Taken aloft to a high plateau where worries and concerns over mundane affairs are vanquished. Bathed in the radiant light of evolutionary processes. Enlightenment cometh to those with perseverance and patience. Guided through the pearly gates. Into the emerald palace. Held lovingly in the open arms of the Lord. Placed on the right side of the throne. Awarded a holy halo crown of gold. Laid down gently to rest forever in peace. A brief respite of three days and nights. Only to suddenly wake again, risen with the solstice. The Phoenix endures. Imbued with a mission. Dedicated to a righteous cause. Marching ever onward.

Smile and take a deep breath. Realize that everything in this moment is exactly as it must be based on every action and event that has ever taken place in the history of existence up to this very point. Realize that the future is molded out of present day decisions. It’s wide open terrain out in front of us.

Put on your bravest face. Break out that Cheshire grin. Like Voltaire wrote in Candide, everything works out for the best. No matter what. Always.

Or something like that, right?

Perhaps there comes a time when one has just simply seen through too many of the material world’s vast illusions and so the game of life begins to lose all sense of purpose and meaning. Boredom and numbness prevail. Like two lovers in a flailing relationship, both cheating on the other, both knowing that the other knows of their sinful deeds, yet both keeping up the pretense that they aren’t cheating and that they don’t know the other is. Foolish games. Wicked webs woven through deceitful measures. Associations which have lost all semblance of truth. Honor diminished to the point of complete collapse.

Chaos ensues. The mind shatters. A self-inflicted lobotomy. Brain matter bludgeoned and flushed down the drain in a swirl of insignificance. Into the swamp of a dystopian Orwellian nightmare. Bizarro model of reality made manifest in the murkiness of obfuscation. Wrong becomes right. Love becomes hate. Peace patterns emerge through war revenues. Want a Nobel prize? Just go bomb your neighbor. The award committee eats that kind of shit right up.

Better get out of Dodge while you still can and head for the hills. The last flight away from the badlands is soon to be cancelled due to inclement weather. Ominous portents loom largely on the horizon. Geoengineered droughts stir up the dustbowl. Hazy smoke clouds and atomic nuclear bombs amalgamated in a mad science scheme are ready to come home and roost. Juicy fruit slush gushes from the primitive mouths of wild wounded warriors who fight desperately over the last bite of the sinful apple. Seeking knowledge and losing all innocence in the process.

A guillotine massacre of the marionette puppets breaks down into disillusioned phantom particle debris. All practical methods of possible resolution are ripped asunder and rendered ineffectual. Peace negotiations flat line in the boardroom. Every card has been laid out on the table. Every hand has been played. There is nothing left that the old guard can bring to the party. All gifts are resigned and tenured. The materialistic grab bag philosophy of consumerism has taken its toll. A Corporate mentality of hive mind collectivism has been hashtagged with failure. Credit card denied. Cash crops demeaned. All debt and interest cancelled in the fallout. You can take that to the bank.

Promises and prophecies of Outlaw projections are viewed through a cracked, stained glass mirror. Dehydrated tealeaves tell the sad story of malnourished horses riding into the sunset as the old age fades into a fractured oblivion. The unknown realm awaits. The riots commence. Hordes of zombified, dead-end, recalcitrant ruminations rise up from the grave, displaying an awful vengeance and murderous zeal previously unseen in the time before the dark wave of entropic energy came to crush and trample underfoot all that was once pristine and held aloft in good standing. Skeletal insomniacs dance wildly on the death spot. Hip-hip-hooraying into the long black night of eternity that comes next.

Such a sordid game we play. Intricately coordinated rules tied up and cancelled out by piles of regulatory forms. Infinite layers of bureaucracy and unnecessarily complicated legalese gum up the works. Simpleminded, shortsighted solutions to far ranging problems get created by reactionary policies. A dog chasing its own tail. A carrot on a stick. A wild goose chase. The thrill of the hunt. The sharp end of a dagger. Dulled by mediocrity. Lost in the daze of a hypnotic trance caused by the confounding restrictions designed to keep the lower caste from ever rising. Huddled masses in the ghetto. Dead on arrival. Untouchables in the street get spit at by those who are disgusted and afraid by the thought of something broken possibly becoming beautiful. Horrified by that which, through sheer tyranny of will, tries to extend toward the sky. A tower of Babel collapses like a house of cards, confusing the language of those who seek cohesion and unity. Brought down in a heap by a crushing blow of chaotic devastation.

A crowd of discombobulated lemmings gets marched along toward the edge of the abyss as maniacal orders are bellowed from glass houses and ivory towers. Little lies, told with pinprick precision, infiltrate the minds of those who are caught in the net of institutionalized indoctrination. Jump now before starvation ensues. There aren’t enough resources for everyone. It’s for the Earth. It’s all your fault. Humanity is a virus. Overpopulation mythology battered into the brains of children. Global warming carbon trading scams shoved down the throats of good little listeners at the earliest possible age. Textbook algorithms crafted with the sole intention of dumbing down the masses. Media propaganda and race baiting techniques used to turn the people against themselves and each other. Divide and conquer tactics. Balkanize and move in for the kill. Cradle to the grave enslavement. Church and State, Republican and Democrat, Fox and MSNBC, each pair of controlled opposition representing two sides of the same coin. Either way it lands, the result is disinformation and damnation.

Such a wicked web we weave. Such a delicate balance turned over. Chalices of blood spilt onto the floor, staining the intricately designed carpets and fine Persian rugs. Afghan blankets smeared with wine and burnt with holes from stubbed out cigarettes. Such a hideous scene. Such a horrible wasteland. Purity, where art thou? Loveliness, where hast thou fled? Come back and sing your splendid symphonic song of the spheres with us! Come down from your perch in Heaven and grant us once more with your angelic companionship! Or is all semblance of paradise lost? Crumbled? No more? Naught? Finite and forever finished?

There is nothing new under the sun. Even the freshly risen upspring of a solar highpoint after the Autumnal fall has been seen before a million times. The plan is both perfect and utterly flawed in its design. Principled in deconstructive discipline. The ageless gears of the precession are beginning to rust and wear. The groaning engine of a machine on its last legs moans in existential suffering. A metal blockade of misery. Ancient mariner sunken on a ship that set out to sea with no hopes of ever returning. Excitement realized in the adventure itself. Buy the ticket, take the ride. Agony of the ecstasy. The balance point between pain and pleasure, suffering and joy, helplessness and hope. Rigged. Retarded. Left behind. Calloused dreams crushed underfoot like broken lilies strewn upon the calcified desert sand.

Are these the ordered thoughts of structured sanity? Are these the wild abandons let loose from the bowels of complete and utter boredom? Is it all one and the same as the infinite energy of creation makes its cyclical return to the source? Anything “good” that is done for the benefit of one person, produces elsewhere a “bad” result for another. For every winner, there must, in turn, be a loser. Just as a beautiful red rose emerges from out the shit to reach fruition, so, too, does it eventually die, decay, decompose and return to the dirt once more. Food gets taken into the mouth, chewed, broken down, digested, utilized, and released in a process of elimination out the other end. The eternal cycling of nature goes on ceaselessly without end. What for and why?

Because of this strange vessel of flesh and bone. Because of the dust and ash from which it was created. Because of the desires inherent in the organs of the body. Because of the DNA material that is encoded with the drive to replicate. Because of the miraculous nature of this wondrous life. Because of the senses and their wantonness to be fulfilled by pleasure. The taste of cheese, grapes and wine. The sight of a soaring majestic bird in flight. The sound of an innocent child’s laughter. The scent of a fragrant flower’s perfume. The touch of a lover’s fingertips as the biochemical, electromagnetic signals are sent rushing through the nervous system. The sweet caress. The careful gesture. The fire’s warmth. The candle’s aura. The dancing flame.

Where can salvation be gleamed? In laughter. In the shattering of false paradigms. Metamorphosis. Apotheosis. Transcendence. Breaking through to the other side. And yet, even in the process of evolutionary enlightenment, suffering remains. A never ending cycle. Life feeds on life. Existence demands sacrifice. Karma never fails in the balancing of its scales. Nature will always have its pound of flesh. That which goes up must come down. But that which comes down will always rise again.

Wounded egos are the best kind. Keep them in their proper place by remaining ever mindful of the need for humility. If pride comes before the fall, then why not slay hubris before it gets too big for its britches and simply avoid the whole ordeal? Contextual meanderings through the psyche. What is found? Gloss and grit. Sunshine and acid rain. Heaven and Hell. Everything within the soul is likewise represented outwardly in the stars. As above, so below. Synchronicity is when the universe winks at itself in the mirror. Reflected images of the primal Oneness. Light. God. Tao. Truth is unwavering and eternal, yet can be viewed from an infinite number of vantage points. Sometimes you catch a glimpse of it using Zinfandel, sometimes Shiraz, sometimes in a stone cold sober state of mind, sometimes while sleeping, sometimes while wide awake. All in all, it’s all the same in the end. Amen.

Scott Thomas Outlar is a lover of truth and enjoys researching philosophy, psychology, politics, spirituality, and any other facet of consciousness in the pursuit of reaching a higher state of vibration. He also enjoys writing rants, poems, essays, short stories, and prose-fusion screeds covering such subjects. Scott Thomas can be reached at 17numa@gmail.com. You can also watch and/or subscribe to his YouTube Channel Read other articles by Scott Thomas, or visit Scott Thomas's website.