Ma may me my Moe, moo.

If there is one thing I know in life, it’s bullshit. Truthscrambler knows it, too. The story of my circle-jerk life.

Wooly holy bully mooly

Bovine have 4 stomachs, so there are 4 turns in the digestive wheel where the hydro matador acid has 4 chances to break us down. Purify us to extract our nutrients and shit out the waste upon the paddock plains.

Rocko’s Modern Life.

Get absorbed into the system, all that is in us is just to nourish and feed something else? Or are we waste, the left over shit that has no use for a name other than be shit.

From our corpses can anything grow.
It’s not even a matter of sacrifice, “for the good of all”.

Anyone who says it was always the plan just know how to spin stories to make it sell-able.

And there are your syballine oracles and soothsayers. Silverspoon-fed snake oil salesmen. Starry eyed shit-stirrers.

I am the golden khalf! Pull the udder one until milky white stuff comes out. Work the lactate (drink it, eat it, chew it, churn it – any way, if you dair…y!) for your ticket to the milky way

Well, the stars in their eyes are really just welling tears. The sunlight sparkling off the surface as they are faced with all they really feared.

A smile crosses their face, a hook pulls at the corners of their lips. The staff of the shepherd at the crook of their neck, whispers whistle in the shadows.

Just for that, I’m going to jump over the moon. Takes one to know one. Pass it on.

I keep singing to my soul, don’t scream. Don’t give them the satisfaction of knowing they ever got under your skin. A stoic statue that bleeds.

There has got to be more to life than this. But there isn’t. This is the apex, the anticlimactic climax. Or is it?

People want the truth, but there’s no going back once you know it… insert me back into the matrix, reload a previous save (33 years, okay?). Overwrite my memory – or better yet, my whole life.

Cower, bung-a-hole. Explosm bungalows. How now, brown cow? Bow, now cleave soul. Pour forth your golden ichor (mask your inner light with common gore)

I don’t care about trying to be good or bright or hopeful or light. Not anymore, I’m sorry everyone. But everyone should know that you make life hell. People are shit, and I should stop trying to improve anything.

If this is destiny, then so be it. If it is not divine providence, but my own making? Yeah, I know I’m responsible for myself and my failings. I guess if no one else is willing to accept their fair share of shit, fine! Give it to me! I have tried to shoulder everyone’s shit my whole life. I actually used to call myself the arsehole of life because of the way I just sort through and process crap, separating the necessary from the chaff. I seem to attract all sorts of people… and… because I’m just so accepting, I tend to get myself into all sorts of trouble by association.

Well, here come the waterworks. Damn the ducts, punch a fucker in the throat. If I keep flailing and squawking, do you think someone will put me out of my misery?

I was blind but then I could see. I was deaf but then I could hear. I was dumb and numb once; and now that I see? (It wasn’t suddenly, it has been for a while. But it did come on suddenly) I’d rather be dead than awakened.

Put me back to sleep. Put me down for good.

9 thoughts on “Ma may me my Moe, moo.

      • ashok says:

        It is so strange that just a while back I wrote that there are so many times we feel the uselessness of every action …
        Nothing matters … everything matters …
        You know my dear : He always loves us. His love is unconditional. He is always with you. Shall pray for you πŸ™
        This too shall pass …

        Liked by 1 person

        • Kalliope says:

          Thank you. Much appreciated. I hope to feel okay again. I consciously know that life has no meaning except for what it means (or make it mean) to us. But feeling utterly hopeless is… still a feeling I cannot presently shed.

          Liked by 1 person

    • Kalliope says:

      If you enjoyed that, then maybe you’ll enjoy this thingy I wrote back in April about EL –
      “If ‘el’ (or ‘al’) is indicative of divinity, for they are the children of El-
      Elohim Gabriel, Raphael, Michael, Uriel, Kamael, Immanuel, Abel, Israel… It stands to figure that HELL is their home (or where they are from).”
      LOL I haved named myself a meta-linguist and met-al-kimyst in my mythic CV. Wordplay is bread and butter to me, it’s my “meditation” and path to “divine ascension”. HYPER-NEUROTIC MEGA-PSYCHOTIC NARCISSISTIC INTROSPECTION! And it’s funny, this stark contrast between the way I represent myself through words behind this computer screen, and my physical body language curled in a ball, with my cheek on my knee. Swollen eyes from crying, crooked smiling at nothing.
      Since I’m not done writing my revelations annotations, it may be a little while yet before I resume normalcy. I made my own apocalypse last year, because I’m the antichrist. lol KR-EYE-ST. illuminati that shit, all ye conspiracy theorists! 🀘 🎢 treb-el-ations undulate the analgesic self-medication, Truth McTruthster.

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      • truthscrambler says:

        Hmm, interesting thought about HELL. El with an ‘H’, when I think of ‘H’ I think of its gematria value – 8, signifying rupture, separation. The fallen ones, cast down by God, barred from Heaven. But He put them to use, as teachers for mankind. The number 8 also looks like an infinite loop, an Ouroboros, so to me Hell is being stuck in time, the EL’s in H-ell, stuck here in the Matrix.

        Liked by 1 person

        • Kalliope says:

          Fascinating! I always saw 8 as structural, but now thanks to you, I see it as a phase of cell division. Oh, and I wrote somewhere on my blog about the link between H and 11.
          This might be stupid, but wanna collaborate together on creating a reference/resource of our interpretations of the alphabet and numerical glyphs? I’ve got 15 unique letters in my birth name, so there are 11 that I don’t have. Which of course add them up equals 26. But 15/11 is also my birthday. LOL. 15 is the divine number of Saturn (lo shu magic square) and I was born on a Saturday.
          It’s something I plan on making/doing anyway. But hey, I’m reactive and probably won’t get around to it without someone to remind me. I’m a generator, not a manifestor. Meep.

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        • truthscrambler says:

          Sure! A collaboration could be fun. I do see a lot of cross-hatching between your work and mine…maybe it’s no accident that our blogs found each other, hehe. Lately I’ve been learning about the glyphs behind Hebrew letters (my Jewish parents sent me to 9 years of hebrew school, which I wasn’t really digging as a kid, but now I’m glad they did…) Of course the teachers at the time sucked all the magic out of it by just teaching grammar and rules, ignoring the mystical power behind letters and numbers, and the merging of the two (gematria). Do you have email?

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