Hello World said the Ouija Machine

Image result for mu buddhism

These machines are febrile hopes for marking the memory of our passing. The permanence of steel, the artificial sun of a liquid display, the durability of plastic. We dance our fingers in frantic spells over 21st century Ouija boards.

We the dead write messages to those who are to come. They will follow in our footsteps. As we have followed the weeping drops of ink that came before.

These blossoming bones, so wrapped in gossamer lilac petals of intelligent skin, they Church into rot. They become nothing. Nothing save an electronic signature.  A peculiar dance across a peculiar void that vomits dancers, then doglike swallows them back. So, electronically we sign.

Electronically we sing into the thing called future. A road that seems so straight. So certain in its coming.

Yet why?  Why not simply breathe the Holy empty…

One was always zero and zero was always one.


The immutable mutation wills us on. When we turn off we find we can’t. So litter now this waxing stack of ashes with variables at random overflowing.

For passing, parsing, is our only function, our only hope.


Call Me An Idiot Here


Or Here


Support This Here


Or With PayPal

Support the Journal

Make a donation via PayPal to help zazz things up.


Not Just Zazz…but Pizzazz

Too high class for regular Zazz? Help Pizzaz up TFJ!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: