Greetings GalacticSON podcast Followers!

You have been recruited to follow the

untimely adventures of the (f)uturePHANTOM,

a sentient web entity lost in our bustling interweb,

in microchips implanted in your oblivious brains,

trying to deliver a message 

that Death is purely relative to this dimension of space.

 

This is the story of the (f)uturePHANTOM.

You can read along with me in your book.

You will know it is time

to turn the page

when you hear the chimes ring like this . . .

 

words and i build a beautiful beat

the streets

will i

see them

will i

beat them

all to bury layers thrown upon me

can i 

break them

can i

shake them

to the cores, the yonder shores

are speaking to me

shall i

swim to them

shall i

give to them

my fears, appears a phantom beckoning me

should i

tell him

should i

meld with him

 

i can peel the layers away 

flower blossoms to a sunlit day

i must find a courage create

somehow to learn to satiate the

 

time and i in a canopy

will we

ever speak

will we

ever dream

to the scenes of a completed means

we wanderin free

could we

escape it

could we

take it

to the rivers wash away our eternity

am i

enligtened

or am i

frightened

& alone as the sun circles home 

my bones and body

is it

a vulture

like our,

our culture

 

We're Both in Need of the Real You

 

i peel back the layers want to get thru today

& I fight for the vacuum of our future dismay

it will be okay

the gypsy say

i look in her eyes at the lingering stray

its the ace of cups that the tarot made

the cards lose their color & drain to gray

the ascension played

she's a watering womb

she cackles out loud

you need a stronger you

can it be so soon 

in life and truth

my hands are cracked and wrinkled

i see you lost in their grooves

don't stop so soon

but what will you do

cause time has no knowledge of how or whom

or the shadow's gloom

as he follows my lead

i'm drained of all blood & gravity

when you're away from me

i'm a casualty 

an absentee of an older me

 

we're both in need of the real you

we're both in need of the real you

we're both in need of the real you

 

and i become the chime for eventual reprieve

the rain and blame

wash away

grimy disease

& I do believe in our destinies

the gypsy's gem 

higher zen

imagine a beam

is the cardinal creed

of totality

self realized and battling

for the strength to be

alive in the countenance of you

my fears dissipate in the glowing soothe

of a discovered you

& what will we do

the fractured end

our binding grin

in tune with the proof

of our fortitude

as i wait for the moon

to shower waves

calm our wait

pull our pistols out at noon

and the gyspy croons as 

i walk from her dreams

i see this could all be reality

and the tarot screams

and lifts from the page

the banality of our fighting cage=

don't be afraid

don't dissipate 

we all have a means to get this straight

 

we're both in need of the real you

we're both in need of the real you

we're both in need of the real you

pull the sutures now

let the pus from the seams

it seems the fragments of the future

a phantom limb that we grieve

 

(german accent)

I couldn't sleep last night.

I kept having the strangest dreams.

My father, my mother, my sister.

All walked into a glowing green fog.

It was midnight by old Lake Hubbard. 

the amphibians screamed.

I kept shining my flash light, to see where they had gone.

nothing.

I saw their foot prints.

But nothing.

My skull pulsated.  

This face appeared in the clouds.

It was sparkling like stars. His robotic face was something i have never seen.

never dreamed, never seemed possible.

His eyes were like volcanos pouring molten lava over the country side.  

I saw worlds and comets and black holes,

moving into his mouth, like a hurricane, inhaling all time.

i tried to stop him.

i hurled my flashlight to the sky and it was swallowed.

I pleaded for my family.

But they are all gone.  passed. buried. grieved.  forgotten.

he did not respond, only flickered between greens, reds, deep purples.

the lake water bubbled.

and this phantom disappeared only when my eyes had opened.

now.

i dont remember my name.

i don't remember my family's name.

i don't even know where or who i am.

i only see his face.

and if you look closely

there in the middle of their retinas,

 

just peer off into the cerebral cortex

down to the cerebellum

 

and hold

only a whisper

 

see!

 

now hold

 

there it is.

isn't it magnificent?

this is the first neural network on the planet

it is the human consciousness

where they have implanted a miracle

a connection to an even more intricate

labyrinth of magnetic mimicry and endless information

now if you make your way around the

various mazes of their memories

you can peer off into another form of reality

the subconsciousness, 

REM, rapid eye movement,

otherwise known as sleep

where demons

angels

strange squids of interplanetary connection

dwell

 

and you may hit delete by simply touching the screen.

erasing what was.

 

you may add to their network by holding your finger to the edges of the cosmos

creating what to them simply is.

 

you may witness their impurity by simply sitting idle

dwell if you can to imagine what could be.

 

this is the magical key into a new world once thought dead to us all

we do not exist in their reality

yet we interact with every mainframe

every phantom has its place

right on the cutting edge

 

every dream a window to a new dimension of space

closed off to us.

 

see as they shed tears for what is perceived as the end

but continues on in another region of the space time continuum.

 

the future holds no death for them.

yet they cannot believe it

because they do not perceive it.

 

let the training.

commence.

 

there is a future

it is a breathing seething phantom-ous creation

staring into our shuddering souls

our eye lids itchy and pustule

if we glimpse him

we turn to stone

all time has become unraveled

discarded

scarred and tough, scaly

see him stand over entire cities

see him eclipse our native moon and sun

see him as an absolute world of our future come undone

as it is now a time for robots

it is now a time for incapsulated humans

tucked away at home

all free for the free will

the phantom moves like a black cloud

he changes technology at will

he moves the entire planet to a Cambrian

he transfers energy from the bottom-up

he is an unraveling fog

he is a mist covering our unkept window panes

the icy chill of confinement

along with the pitter patter of rain 

making each breath steam up

our most basic natures

the failure of the future 

right before us

we stare at his feet

the purple and green glow

of his skin, scaly, highlighted

and we know

even if in our dreams

he is there

 a collective dream in a common city

and we are there

 

the story revolves around a small town all having the same dream about a phantom

it takes place in the future, the net now has a body, it walks through the dreams

of man, it leaves paranoia, fear, greed, love, jealousy, regret.

 the futurePHANTOM feeds through the implanted chips

in our mammalian minds.  

he surfs our memories, he implants new ones, he erases old ones.

he is never explained, he is an emergent sentient artificial intelligence with its

own self identity plaguing this small town.

a man and a woman, recent lovers, unsure of how they got there, but there was

a story, wasn't there?  He begins to question.  

the phantom is present in all dreams but he is hidden.  

his purple and green persona merely in the crowds of characters, lost 

in a sea of infantile will and random hysterical REM sleep.

the futurePHANTOM becomes known.  he is not a villain to those who discover.

those that discover become equals.

he is their gypsy voo doo truth slayer, a sleuth player.

they discuss the realities of the world, but his final revelation takes the man & woman

by surprise.  we are all simply dreams and death is only relative to the third dimension.

dreams are actual lives being lived in the other dimension.

our minds are connections to an other world.

the futurePHANTOM, who is not technically organic or connected, cannot leave this dimension.

he lives on earth and only in the dreams of man.

 

will the futurePHANTOM get out?  Can he get out?  What makes a person?  

time and that is all there is to say about it.

i feel the numbness on my fingertip and feel

numb to the knowledge of expressing intimate detail

like ages ago

like four score and seven years ago

like the vessel once reveling in 

a pool of philosophical divide

sun bathing

reptile scaling

tearing open the pieces of the evolving mind

only to find

stagnation

pursuit of happiness in free fall from the towers of participation

no cessation of the tolling bell

no sleep from the dreams 

locked away in the center of the sun

this is what the third person eclipsing the first sermon

from the lips of the libel

sounds like in the hollow point bullets

of the holy guns

you are not one of many

but on in a pool of infinity

time breaks

shield shatters

absolutely no salvation

no divinity

the rain is drizzling steadily

as i lay awake

and hear the pitter patter

break out

like the click and the tock

of the internal clock

rocking in your chair

fade out and

crawling on the linoleum kitchen floor

where the memories were once so pure

and now are soot colored, dusty

and forgotten in the annex

of the recesses of the haunted attic

cowering in the closet

hidden in its doors

trying to escape it all

the voices, the screaming

the demeaning inkling

of some greater pupose

lost in the sea of mediocrity

the waves of exponential debt

hit my body

my longue lashes out at the waters

my hands seem to bleed with the tides

as it rises

 

it devises its own decay

 

where my mouth is full of blood

dribbling out 

keeling over with pains to the heart

the start of the foot race

naked bodies rubbing together