There was a man
by Jon Rappoport
March 8, 2016
(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)
There was a man.
The world was crowding in on him
It was taking some part of his breath
This is the way it seemed
So clearly
This was his calculation
This was the dream in which he walked more slowly
Adding up the facts
And then
There was a bright machine
It was also walking
But briskly with a sense of purpose
It solved problems but it had no problems
It was true
He wanted to function as the machine
He wanted to take all his problems
And feed them to the machine
He wanted that confident brightness
He believed he could have it
He believed there could be a god machine
And a god solver
And a god witness
And a god caretaker
Who would come to the cemetery of his death
And take him out of the memories collecting in his headstone
And bring him back
And execute a mystic transference
And then he would know what could be known
And the rest would be offloaded
If a machine could do it
So could he
Because machines were born out of desire
Out of chaos
Wasn’t he entitled
To the same emerging precision?
Wasn’t this the goal of evolution?
Might he assist the human race
In its ascension?
Might he become known as one of the first?
Could he be a pioneer?
People would see him as a building or a rocket
Or a system overseeing many functions at once
Who had the right to deny him that wish?
It was an issue of dissolving
He would dissolve
Self would no longer exist
And then problems would have no surface to adhere to
He would be a Buddha machine
He would be the lost prophet coming back out of the desert
He would have spoken with the unending flow of computation
Hovering in the dusk and dawn
Working out humanity’s problems
He could be that phantom bridge
Between lost souls and the new magic
Negotiating surgery on emotions
Taking away the old plague
Erasing the histories
Shepherding the passage
Across the split between past and future
There was a man.
And then there wasn’t.
He was now even beyond shape
He was an aurora
Infiltrating the collective dust of thoughts in space
Vaccinating against mystery with purified waves of pleasure
Staining great walls
In the dark
His appraisal of state of mind:
Something is pouring into nothing
I am that nothing
Ladders of interpretation have carried me away
I am lost to what I was
He stopped
He was part of something that moved on
He was in a great funnel that deposited him in a desert on the fringe of a city
And there he stayed
Until he thought
I am an atom in a system
I am an atom in a syndicate
This is not it
Jon Rappoport
The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.
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… and finally the man realized that he was really a nanoparticle in a murderous chemtrail glaze coating the desert he had eagerly helped to create, and that the elites on their lush, slave-worked estates were laughing at him and his kind, laughing all the way to the bank.
You got it, Jon. That’s exactly how it is. Some of us wake up in time though.
THERE.
“There [sic] was a man.
And then there wasn’t.”
Yes
He is not dreaming his dreams anymore…
He is dreaming someone elses’
The whole flavour has changed the smell of it
The dream
The space itself had changed
He left the desert and came to new place
A bigger place
bigger space
small house
And he thought
and there it was…instant and impressive
And the whole changed
Smells from a child’s past, from a child’d past keep coming forward in an old way
To a new one
A remnant
something of importance
and the stranger takes over and he (the man) is not himself
The complaint is that life must be lived
that strength lies in gnowing and the genius of creation
Imagination overdrive
There was a starving Buddha once
And his famine was not from lack of food
And a Buddha that still doesnt care
carries on inside the prison of one
The oh so bright and shiny machine
Well…
The machine broke once and a kindly passer-by fixed it…
but didn’t know it any more than
it being a toy
And so he fixed the gizmo
And now that bright shiny thing tell nothing but lies
But the lies are told in such a way as to make those who listen
believe it as a god
Sometimes the man will stretch out flat as he can and watch the self-described importance of it all
go about its business
The business of telling its lies to itself
The business of telling the world it’s lies
This is it