All posts by jacktrismegistus

I am called Jack. I am an incarnation of all the Jack's that have ever been. My opinions and philosophies are a reflection of said Jack's. The blog is entitled Inglorious Resurrection because like you I have been granted yet another chance, and like you each chance granted becomes more degenerative than the previous. And like you, I yearn for a way out. Jack is my only glimpse of hope because there is a lil Jack in all of us.

evoL… (A poem by Jack)

Liquid languishing from elongated lashes…Love is latent and relinquishing..

I’m trying to sip from her Chalice..

But the remorse and pride inside her may be too heavy for my heart to lift..

I am but a man.. And by the ways of a man I maneuver.. In matters of the heart.. It requires a Devine awakening..

And all I can do it but whisper.. Sweet nothings.. And a whisper of nothing has never been enough to silence the murmurings of a heart.. A whisper can but add to the confusion of the chaos.. Desires pulling her one way.. Laws of attraction pulling her another..

And who but a man am I to influence such a convoluted occurrence..

If she didn’t love him why did she marry him… If she loves me why won’t she marry me.. Such a complex situation could be made oh so simple..

Yet we’re natural beings stuck in an unnatural environment.. Struggling to adapt.. So the murmurs of her heart may be a necessary evil.. And the tranquility of my whisper may just be the peace she needs.. The secret garden in this human zoo of Brick and Mortar..

Luscious lucidity limping through languid elocution… 

Words of the heart that is.. 

Analogue (a poem by Jack)

Analogue gal in a Digital World..

Woman, who art thou..

Queen, God, mother, daughter, lover, whore…a real bad bitch..

Her nectar spreads so thick, and taste so sweet.. How can one entity wear so many hats..

The ruler of men, yet men’s whole frame of existence is to lock her down, keep her chained within a role..

A whore must be a whore and nothing more and nothing less– you can’t fathom the thought of a whore being your savior…But she is and she was because she’s free and it was her choice..

analogue gal in a digital world, with a frequency from the infinite.. she traverses a narrow path, alone without trepidation but with skeptical pride.  Skeptical Pride…

But we can’t define her, she must know her past, she must know in order to transform… She is of the people that’s how she can lead the people… Analogue Christ…

Crowns of thorns, lashes of disgust, The scarlet letter tattooed right across her upper thigh, as she provides suductive dance of eroticism… 

Can you judge your saviour without judging yourself… Can you know your saviour without knowing yourself?  As the world turns so does she, as her mind opens so does her child, as the children grow so goes the world.  So who truly will save the future?

Analogue gal in this Digital World…

Actions speak louder than words (a poem by Jack)

In the beginning was the word..They did not listen.. So they were cut off..

In that instance Wisdom arose… For it was the only remaining connection to the Word..
Walk like a prince they’ll treat you like a Prince .. They said..
Act like a king.. They’ll shame you until you crawl like a dog..

So I saunter with a limp.. Nothin like a pimp.. But more like a man wounded from war.. War with the world over my proper portrayal..

As both oppressor and oppressed alike.. I too adopted the incarnation of my victor..upon his perishing.. My repression blossomed.. That which was repressed became that which I loathed for so long.. I became the identity of my oppressor.. I am the identity of my oppressor..

As a dog.. I approach the world on bended knee.. As an American I know exactly the role to play..

So when I walk with a limp.. It may not be pride, it may not be a pimp, but it may be a certain self-hate that manifest as a particular self-consciousness.. My walk may not be absolute.. But despite it all I walk..

Not as a prince because they’ll treat me like one.. Built up only to be broken down.. Torn to pieces, broken psyche and all.. Shamed until I achieve my originally form.. 

Rather the form that was meant for me, as an American– 

Verily I say unto you… (a poem by Jack)

Because it’s all you know.. Doesn’t mean it’s all there is.. Like two lions scrapping on the Serengeti! Death in death out.. We fight for the flesh to keep our lives.. But beyond this circle of survival, rest a spirit of eternity.. So what exactly are you fighting for?

I’ve gotten so entrenched in my story.. I lost sight of the big picture.. The grand narrative..
The moonlight never battles with the Sun, for it understands timing is everything.. The moon light pierces and rules the earth when most are sleep.. The predator tip toes along the gaze of the moon’s refraction..

I fight for love, but love is shared never won.. I fight for life, but life is granted never– how long do you watch another struggle before assistance is granted.. But ye is not thou brothers keeper.. Ye definitely are not thou makers keeper.. So even worse is the fate of the fallen God…
Bombs bursting in air.. Shooting stars.. Lifeless flesh hanging from the gallows.. A battle for supremacy is trivial thus a battle for survival ensued.. But survival implies a dependency upon time.. Do you really want to be outside of time in your current condition..

So much more to learn, even a fallen God can carry a righteous message… Even a burned out star has everything to offer… To explore because history has an uncanny way of retelling the same story again, just changing a minor detail here or there.. And because you know the story already.. Doesn’t  mean that’s all there is..

Valleys and Peaks (a poem by Jack)

The shadows admire the light so.. 

For without the light they cease to exist, they lose all individuality and become swallowed by the dark..no matter what animosity they display.. They adore the light and also feel spite because their survival directly correlates..

As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death.. I remain detached as if a blank slate.. I float through and see the reactions.. 

It’s the reactions that are so convincing..

The visceral on the faces.. The hatred in the eyes.. The betrayal behind the smiles..

If I were a blank slate before.. Who am I to believe I am now? Is it me that provokes these responses.. Or is it them.. Certainly I’m the source.. The licentious provocateur!

But it’s the ease and the comfort of the vibrations that keeps me going.. The soothing word.. Inaudible.. But comforting.. It can not be interpreted only reacted upon.. I am like that word.. They comprehend me not but I provide plenty to react to…

I provide both source and inspirations.. But still I walk.. With uncertainty.. Although the prophecy has been written.. I can’t walk by faith because that’s a product of the mind.. I only can walk… And vibe.. And be…  And death is there, adjacent to my life, simply a revolving corridor that leads into itself.. Yet I walk through this valley.. Preparing myself to climb to the peak of the mountain top..

At some point this blank slate has filled in.. Will fill in.. Yet, with what.. The projections of others? Or the interpretations of said projections? I prepare myself.. Stop, reflect and realize maintaining who I am is all I need to reach the apex.. Nothing but what I am is of necessity..

philistine God.. (A poem by Jack Stuper)

There’s nothing wrong with it,because that’s how they live… I mean you fight it initially because it’s sick… It’s unnatural… But you slowly become desensitized.. The obscure becomes a place called home… The obscene proves a reference of familiarity…

You become that which you once feared.. 

I’ve survived many generations.. I’ve seen many men fight the monster.. Run from the monster.. But eventually she always wins out.. You either join her or become devoured.. There is no room for anything less..

I’ve seen others scold me for pointing out the monster.. I’ve been ridiculed for not sacrificing myself to the monster.. I’ve been made to feel ashamed or less than a man because of Her..

She’s swallowed souls whole and spit out the hallow remains.. I’ve shaken hands with lifeless men.. Men who believed they live to die and nothing more..

Yes,a dichotomy me she is.. A simple duality she mirrors…Because she is the source of pestilence.. Yet the purveyor of all comfort and happiness given.. But it’s at a price… It’s always at a price… Most don’t know themselves so what they give is of know value..

But as I’ve stated.. I’ve lived plenty generation.. And I know that she can’t survive without us… She can’t survive without us.. But you can’t survive without her.. Least all but the  deviant has been led to believe..

Duller and duller the senses grow.. The philistine population grows exponentially.. They fight for her.. They kill for her.. They die for her.. 

I lay down with Wisdom every night and pillow talk.. Why.. I ask.. How.. I ask..

Watch she says… Be patient she says..

But how long must I witness… How many generations must be devoured before enough is enough..

The heart of the philistine is valiant.. Yet so is the soul of the righteous..

Dreams ask why? (A poem by Jack)

When your heroes crash and burn… When all you admired turns cold and lifeless…

What hope do you have?
Beyond ideology lies chaos and anarchy… Is this why we fear ourselves…and must be ruled by words…
Do words formulate the perimeters of dreams or do dreams provide impetus for words and word of mouth alike..

What happens to a person that is conscious with their own dream..conscious within their own dream.. Or consciously aware of one’s dream..or consciously living a dream?

Do you continue to walk with the illusion.. Within the illusion.. As part of the illusion..
Do you figure away out.. Do figure away to change the illusion.. Do you reside in cohabitation with.. Are you the illusion?
Perhaps you ask yourself.. For what reason is this illusion present.. Do I need it or does it need me more.. And if I’m in so much control.. Why can’t I end this.. All of it.. 
My mind is my God, because all it perceives is all I know? Then that would make my mind the purveyor off all that is evil… 
There is everything to fear when hope no longer exist..not from you of course.. Because disillusionment leads to liberty.. Or at least the way towards liberation becomes illuminated..
But that which controls the illusion has most to lose…
And you have everything to (re)gain..

life…. Is life.. Regardless.. (A poem by Jack)

Through clear eyes.. I see the guilt and anguish that haunts your soul..

I would tell you that you’ve been forgiven.. but both you and I know that already..
And for some reason you are unabsolved..
The forgiveness will never be accepted until you forgive yourself.. Until then, the guilt will guide your path.. Like quicksand the more you struggle.. The further you fall within yourself.. Sucking you under.. Your soul .. Your guilt.. Your purpose.. All become indistinguishable.. Just a muck..
Does fate hold you accountable.. Perhaps it was the perfect triangulation of events.. Perhaps it was this souls specifications to encounter an origin of this nature.. Although we may not be like others.. We were never meant to be alike anyway.. So let me conquer my journey and you conquer yours.. But you can’t escape the quicksand and get back to going where you need to go.. Until you forgive yourself.. This is a self imposed prison.. The only God that has the key..
Is you…

systematic “justice”.. (A poem by Jack)

Rules, just as systems, are meant to be broken…
Voices are ruled disposable..and dispondent… Actions have become almost as meaningless as words.. Just cheap tricks.. A means to barter more attention..
It’s the attention that matters most.. Trapped within the confines of these cold.. Well crafted, calculated boxes… Every man is an island of themselves.. Yet interconnected through the invisible net… We keep ourselves locked away only exposing that which is acceptable.. To the opinions of the information highway..
I created my own prison and I’m enslaved to it… My mind keeps creating patterns.. Thoughts wrapped around thoughts.. Shaping the mind state of a fool..A Fool chasing after a sequence that I can never catch… With no control.. Everything I ask for.. Eventually shows up.. But never timely.. 
Usually by the time they show, I can’t recognize I’ve ever asked for it..
It’s the boxes.. I bang on the boxes.. I want out.. But for every wall I break down two more spring up in its place.. Forever entrapped in this consciousness…
These rules I tell ya… This system I tell ya…

The Social Experiment…we all can join in!  (A blog by Jack)

I recently viewed the movie The Maze Runner… It is a movie in which a dystopian future is vaguely portrayed..
Individuals (All of which are young males except for one female who enters the settlement last, three years after the first male arrived.) are placed on a settlement with seemingly no way out.  The settlement is placed within giant walls, there is one opening in the wall that opens and closes on occasion throughout the day that leads to a giant maze.  The maze has been explored and no one was been able to figure a way out in the three years since they have inhabited the settlement. The young men grow content in living on the settlement, until a savior like person arrives and leads them off of the settlement by cracking the maze. A schism grows between the settlers because some experience Stockholm syndrome in which they identify with the settlement as home and it angers them that others want to leave. Once they finally escape the maze, it is recognized that they have been a product of some secret organization’s social experiment.
And this is the crux of this blog.. A speculative blog about the nature of esoteric knowledge.. God(s).. And government…
I have a relative who has been diagnosed as schizophrenic, he detest the monicker because he feels it provides a stigmatism along with it. He doesn’t feel he’s is schizophrenic, due to the fact that he does not “hear voices”. He claims that he sees implied thoughts, he describes it as a ventriloquist who can throw their voice, he can read the thoughts or hear the thoughts of people before they actually say it… Only problem is the people do not actually say or think what he believes they are–hence the diagnosis. Anyway, one of his big sticks is the fact that there are “overseers” who determine the fate of men. He claims that these “overseers” can grant technology, knowledge, and ideas to people in order to make particular people successful and withhold information from others to keep them restricted away from their “inheritance”.  Now these ideas and what not are communicated through signals communicated to the brain.  These signals are received through an “ear piece”. Of course he feels that the “overseers” in his particular region of America have kept him away from success because they feel he doesn’t have enough to “offer” so he seeks the help of other “overseers”. Overseers have the power to alter your appearance as well as intellect among other things. And if you took this narrative for face value, it would appear life then becomes one huge social experiment.  One in which we are placed in various circumstances, and given certain resources, and watched having our actions and reactions analyzed having conclusions drawn (for what purpose, who knows?).
This whole concept as well as the movie sparked some thought within me. The idea of “overseer” within divine connotation is not a unique one. We actually witness this within the Bible.  The very “God” that many of us serve negotiates a social experiment with his “Adversary”.  His adversary, Satan, has quite the unique relationship with God that he’s able to sit down speak with him as old friends would.  Satan proposes the fact that God’s followers only follow him because he provides so much for them.  Of course, God, in his pride disagrees and says my followers love me organically.  So naturally this must be put to the test. And this is done by way of God’s most faithful servant Job.  And of course, Job has no idea that he is involved in any type of test or experiment. But God’s servant, Job’s,  “faith” must be put to the test.
As the Bible would have it, divine entities: Satan and God meet and agree to place Job through a social experiment as a friendly wager to test his “faith”.
Now I’m not stating that there is any correlation between any of these concepts and relation to us as humans.  But you must admit, it does get you to thinking.  The Gnostic faith believes that our physical body is but a prison that enslaves our spiritual selves.  And if you do analyze the brief history of earth, as time passes and progresses, we as humans are the only beings who change relative to the circumstance that they are placed in.  A dog today has a similar nature to a dog millions of years ago.  A bear today will more than likely act the same as a bear a million years from now, despite any circumstance that they are placed within.  Because nature takes up natures course.  Yet, as a sore thumb, we stick out.  Humans today, act and think and behave differently than humans 30 years ago.  Americans may act drastically different than say a conservative Islamic-faith Iranian. It appears our behavior can be altered by any number of things, mainly ideals, circumstance and resources.  We are fickle and would make for excellent “test” subjects.
I am a very perceptive person when it comes to identifying men.  I’ve witnessed men who have the exact same characteristics of revered Hall-of-Fame athletes, yet because of the course their life has taken they are vile and wretched men.  I see what they could of been with just one thing going right as opposed to what they turned out being.
It all just kind of makes you wonder.  Could this all be but a game?
Are we all part of one’s social experiment?  In which the “chosen” are selected to proceed to the next level of the experiment, while those weeded out are condemned to eternal damnation?