WRITINGS FROM THE RODENTS OF THE UNDERGROUND
VOL. 1, ISSUE NUMBER 5.5; NEEP
© 1997, All rights reserved to the writers (the members of the Gopher Society)
WARNING: IF IT WASN'T MEANT TO BE EATEN, IT WOULDN'T LOOK LIKE A TACO
-EDITOR OF THE SO-CALLED EDITOR-
The CIB Man
-FORMATTING/EDITING OF THE EDITOR OF THE SO-CALLED EDITOR-
Mr. G
-WRITINGS, COMMENTARY, POETRY & RAMBLINGS-
Rewired
the CIB Man
-DEDICATION-
see: thanks to
-THANKS TO-
see: dedication
| edgeatorial | by Rewired |
| The Rebuttals of iM #2 | by the CIB Man and Rewired |
| drain | by Rewired |
| The Makings of an Assamite part II | by the CIB Man |
| The Forest | by Rewired |
| Afraid | by the CIB Man |
| The Chair | by Rewired |
| Tears | by the CIB Man |
| soble | by Rewired |
| Report on 'Anthem' | by the CIB Man |
| Revolution | by Rewired |
| BGM music | by the CIB Man |
| Even Words | by Rewired |
| Zeus | by the CIB Man |
| guru | by Rewired |
| Catcher | by the CIB Man |
| Skin | by Rewired |
| Cults | by the CIB Man |
The lava lamp. That is how it had begun with him, but not really. It was a certain trigger that got him to step back and look at his life from a different level, and where the past was once accepted and irrelevant it now became imperative to understand and grasp and meant everything.
If he was chasing shadows, he had turned around to face them first that night.
Or they had finally let him remember a piece of his secret history.
I'm sick and I have a headache. I hope I feel better for the Cedar Point thing tomorrow, which is after prom. I didn't go to prom. Dances suck. Some day, maybe through the conduit of my writing, I'll let you know some of the massive reasons why. Traumatizing indeed, but only in a silly and pathetic way. Yet from me, who would expect anything less?
Self-annihilation trip over. 'Kay, here it goes.
Here's some literature to pollute your braincells.
HISTORY OF ET CONTACT WITH MANKIND
Questions posed here: where did the prisoner souls come from that the
Anunnaki used to animate their biological slaves, Mankind? Did the demigods
survive the flood [does it make a difference?] : (Yes, they might have a
higher rate of psychic ability or other factors)? How are they different
from average humans [wouldn't they be dead anyhow?] : (most likely, but
they might be existing through certain bloodlines, which was my primal
interest) -- more psychic ability? Can it be traced in bloodlines [most
with psychic ability come from normal families] : (I believe, at least, that I
mad a thorough investigation, through books in the least, of the Occult. In
reading I didn't hear from what types of families those with psychic abilities
come -- I have read that it comes to children during the pubescent years and is
active in young children, maybe from birth to about five or even seven. After
this time, since their lack of need, the psychic powers are repressed)? Are
the demigods the abductees?
Drain me, drain out this emotion
The first time I met my mentor, Ankou, was on a windy spring day. I'd been
riding my bike down the rough gravely road. A pothole grabbed my tire, and I
was flung to the ground, grating my arm and hand. Pain. I laid in dirt, face
down. When I rolled over: tall, black-dressed, female, mysterious, beautiful,
deadly, kind. I lay cold in abeyance. My mind was racing, and fear was passed
up by interest. She wiped a tear from my eye, and rubbed it on my wounds. My
body was numb, and tingling. By the time I turned to pick up my bike my healer
had vanished.
From this experience I knew I was special, set aside from the rest of
humanity. It was a secret that I could only share with myself, and the wind,
carrier of everyone's thoughts, and only trustworthy confidant.
Years past and occasionally I would see her ageless figure watching me. There
she would stand or crouch: trees, crowds, buildings, alleys; like she didn't
exist to others as anything more than an obstacle to move around. When I would
try to approach her, I would mysteriously forget my purpose, and wander
elsewhere.
At thirteen I had developed a crush on a girl who rode on my school bus.
Every weekend I would bike ride down to a park called Hell's Hollow. It was
very near her house, so I could go by it during my ride. Hell's Hollow is
chiseled by a small river which, with the help of glaciers, has carved out some
spectacular ravines. A road, long closed and worn away, ran through it, still
accessible to my mountain bike. Frustrated by my lack of friends, and inner
pain for a blind world, I laid down on the bridge that spanned the shallow
creek. Closing my eyes I tried to turn inward, toward my mind. Once there I
realized the whole outside was viewable to my mind too. While reaching outward
I felt a presence near me, under me! Bolting up straight I entreated to any
present to reveal themselves. With astounding agility she leapt up from under
the bridge. In awe, was the only way I could describe how I felt. She simply
stated "I am Ankou, you too will become Ankou in time." With that she bit her
tongue, took out a small phial, spat in it. She told me that if I held the
phial and thought of her, she would come to me. She also told me that if I
drank the content I would be powerful, but that there would be greater power,
if there was greater waiting. Her blood given, she transformed into a panther,
and was gone from sight in seconds.
Life, Death, Questions. Standing on that bridge alone, old crush released,
new emotions flowing stronger than the river beneath me. I was lost, but I
finally knew my purpose; to be found. Blood spit promise held in hand.
Answers had been promised, but thought was needed first. Why was I different?
Should I drink? Time drew blanks.
A week past. The night was warm, and the moon was bright. The object of
thought lay before me on my bed. Curious, and decided I picked it up and
beckoned. Eyes closed, 15 minutes, her breath on my face. There she was,
sitting on my bed, ebony dressed and virile as a cat. Her eyes were powerful,
yet gentle upon me. My mind was opened, voice in my throat I asked "What is
Ankou?"
What are you so afraid of? It's just the world.
It's taunting me, because it knows I know. That alone disturbs me -- that I
know, but that I will not let this part of me know. Another part of me,
separate from this one, is either arrogantly selfish or overly-protective.
Maybe both, and in a skewered way that might make sense. What surrounds the
chair in my memory of my childhood? What shadows could it let loose if I dare
pry into that image again?
It must've been so long ago... was I five? six? Was it November or December...
? Just atop my bed, paralyzed with fear that ran so deep my blood went cold and
all else within me and the world I saw dissipated into a bleak nothingness that
stung like cold air on my skin. It was the most horrid feeling I can recall. It
has no meaning, just atop the bunk bed, looking down at the chair, unable to
move my eyes from it. I was fixated on that chair. Whatever else had been going
on, whatever happened before or after, meant nothing for me. I was looking at
that chair, trying to remember it, so it would help me remember something else.
And so that's it -- its a key. A key I don't know how to use. And on what
door?
I drain my thought
My face is pale
A squishy, green, purple fungus,
It was real.
It was real.
by the CIB Man
Anthem, by Ayn Rand, portrays communism and technology as antonyms in a
futuristic, medieval, totalitarian society, through the events in Equality
7-2521's life; specifically, Equality is jailed and shunned when he develops
his own ideas, invents an electric light bulb, and performs biological
experiments. However the fact that he makes these discoveries isn't nearly as
important as the discoveries he makes about himself. Equality's findings are
much more than technological advances. They are actually just representations
of the real mystery that confronts Equality, the enigma of self discovery in an
entirely communistic brotherhood.
Communism personifies a regressive form of society in which new ideas and
technology are rarely introduced because they can only be thought of by people
who are selected as thinkers. Even then the idea must be known by everyone and
thought by everyone so that it is completely communal. This concept has
several major failings: First, this ideology means that everyone would require
the same amount of collective knowledge as everyone else. No field of study
could be advanced or be specialized because then the information, and data
gained would have to be known by everyone to be completely collective.
Eventually the amount of knowledge would surpass a human's ability to learn it
all and either no new concepts could be introduced or old ideas would have to
be lost to make room for the new. Another problem is the possibility that the
most intelligent people would get jobs that would restrict them from developing
their own ideas (such as a street sweeper). Instead, it would put those of the
least intelligence in charge of teaching and studying. This form of society
would make advancement painstakingly slow or perhaps even retrogressive. One
may think those who are more intelligent would be likely candidates for the
jobs requiring thinking. Actually, it would likely be the opposite because
those who are more intelligent are generally more creative and self expressive.
This behavior would be discouraged by the teachers who also may be
subconsciously fearful that someone more intelligent would embarrass them by
showing superior intelligence. A final blunder in this philosophy is that the
individuals who want to learn more probably will find ways to expand their
knowledge, and question ideas, leading to a revolution for knowledge;
specifically, Equality is not satisfied with his lot in life as a street
sweeper, so he explores forbidden places in search for answers. When he finds
them, he decides to share his findings, only to find that he, and his
discoveries, are shunned. However he doesn't let rejection stop him. Instead,
he runs into the mountains with Liberty, the woman he loves, (yet another and
perhaps more powerful urge that is suppressed) following him. He challenges
the wilderness to learn more and bring back his findings to those who want to
learn to be individuals.
Ayn Rand equates technology with individualism. Equality's thirst for
knowledge, and self expression enable him to discover more in months than the
scholars had in decades. Since the beginning of the new era the society of
scholars had not accomplished any significant advances beyond a candle, but
alone Equality discovers electricity, and performs various other experiments.
Not only does he discover electricity but he learns how to use and manipulate
it, making it generate light. Also, he dissects frogs to learn about their
anatomy, which is symbolic of his learning about himself. After he makes these
inventions, and other various discoveries, other free thinking ideas develop.
Equality, continues to fall in love with Liberty, and become his own person,
separate from the rest of society. After being rejected by the council of
scholars Equality moves into the forbidden mountains and is followed by
Liberty. There they find a glass house, built by the people of the past, and
move in. Inside are books that answer many of his questions and ends his quest
for the word for self, "I". After he finds his answers he goes to share what
he has learned with those who want to be individuals. All of this happens as a
chain-reaction effect to the search for knowledge.
From Anthem people can perceive that individuality is one of the most
important characteristics they can obtain. Humanity can't let it be taken or
life shall be little more than an intricate beehive, each individual working
just for the betterment of society, and never for the betterment of themselves.
Communism is perhaps the greatest oppressor because it is self inflicted,
enforced by peer pressure, and taught from birth. Its goal is a better
society, but its side-effects are the loss of freedom, of speech, religion and
individuality. "I" is a word to be cherished and used with care. To
forget its significance is to forget what it means to be human.
Doubtless it had just been another one of those weekends.
I was cradling my cup of Pepsi and munching on some fries bought with some
money I'd borrowed from one of my friends who were at the table with me -- I'd
become a mooch over the span of two years -- when me and him began talking.
He took a couple drags and flicked his cigarette against the ashtray before
going for another drag. I was in one of my moods, that perpetual one that never
ends, and had been grumbling about government and the twisted mechanics of
society.
"You know, Fred, you're a very tiny, angry man, you know that? You sit here
and contemplate the meaning of life when you should be out there living. The
only pleasures in life are quick and cheap. You're never going to win trying to
fight the system, mostly because the majority of the people don't care."
"Most the world population is strikingly dense and ignorant."
"True."
"So why are there intelligent people like you trying to conform to them by
destroying your body with drugs?"
"I never claimed to be intelligent." He said.
"You don't have to. It shows." I replied, "I just can't sit around and watch
the government control the people. By controlling them without them knowing it,
they're eliminating choices that humanity has the right to systematically
explore. They think that this, this around us, is all that reality is. In our
tiny box we lock ourselves in, the one we call society. To escape the box, to
even get some elbow room, people delve into escapisms... a six pack here, a
bong there... humanity deserves better."
"What the hell are you gonna do? Start a mass retaliation against the
government? There's gonna be no revolution man, because no one cares. You gotta
face it and move on, live for the moment. You know what, Fred? You need to get
laid. You need a cigarette. Relax." I took a mental note -- third time this
week someone told me I needed a cigarette. Sixth time I was told I needed to
get laid.
I just shook my head. "I can't relax when the world's gone shithouse."
"Well, Fred," he said, after peering at his watch and finishing up his
cigarette, "I'd love to sit here for the rest of the night and contemplate the
meaning of life with you, but I gotta get back to work. Been nice talking to
ya."
"See ya later." I said as he disappeared behind the counter of Burger King.
I knew he was wrong. A revolution was on the way, and change would happen.
Everything changes eventually. And every family's always "only three meals
away from a revolution." I heard that somewhere. Yet the reality of what he
said couldn't be eased by the quote that had popped into my head. He'd made me
question myself: was I questioning too much? Was I peering at a rose petal
through a microscope, trying to analyze every detail and never stopping outside
to actually smell the roses?
It appeared so.
This saddened me and angered me as much as it perplexed me.
I am writing to you in regards to the bill that was sent to me. I would like
to tell you why I have not yet sent you any money. First of all you sent me
the wrong selection. I had specifically X-ed the box for tapes however your
company sent me CD's. In this case I see no reason to send you your money for
shipping and handling especially when I don't recall the rate of shipping and
handling being so high in the agreement that I had signed. Furthermore I'm not
sure but I believe that I could sue YOU for harassment through the mail, and
for billing me for something that wasn't received. All that I am asking of you
now however is for you and me to forget about this and call it even. Although I
could be wrong in my view I think that it would not be very good business for
you to take a fourteen year old to court over $7.24 which is not do to you. So
I would like for you to discontinue my supposed membership that you claim I
have. However I know that I have not sent any thing to you other than that one
card which I obtained from the Boy's Life magazine that I don't believe
said anything about applying to become a member of your club. Thank you for
reviewing the bill that you sent me.
I could feel myself losing it again. I felt every part of my body shaking,
every pore sweating that cold sweat, every painful thought running at me at
once. I had my coffee in hand. After I parked in my spot at school, I couldn't
take it anymore -- I lost it, started crying. I couldn't see them, no, but I
could feel their questioning, perplexed eyes drawn upon me, wondering why it
was that I was acting like this. T them, this morning, everything else in the
world was fine. To me reality itself was havoc. I couldn't think straight, it
was like a river running through my mind, and I was nothing -- only will, and
that will was aimed at directing that river within me and trying to catch a
breath on a little island I once called home but hadn't been able to reach for
some time due to the low tide. The flood had taken me over. I never drowned in
it. I always watched it wash away all I believed in or grown to depend on or
have faith in, but never had I perished by its hands. It had only given me
experience and the opportunity to grow stronger through crisis.
She was leaning over me, asking me what was wrong, if I was all right, what
was going on. I couldn't look at her or my sister. I just sighed, and out with
the sigh I found myself voicing: "You guys need to go inside." Still perplexed,
they slowly but surely opened the car doors and stepped out, closed them, and I
could hear the gravel beneath their feet as they approached the school doors.
I looked up, and the world was lucid. What heightened awareness fear can give
you. I slammed the car into reverse, then drive, and spun out of the school
parking lot onto the road. It was a straight shot passed my house, a turn down
the next street, and then a straight shot to Hades Hollow. I parked there, too,
if only to think and breath, maybe gather my thoughts. I didn't know what the
hell to do. No one could help me, I'd tried that so many times. Drugs would
just make these delusions worse, if they were delusions, and I was beginning to
doubt that hopeful theory more and more as time went on.
What exactly was happening, I did not know. I knew this: that it could not be
ignored any longer. It demanded recognition, it demanded to be noticed and
strived for acceptance. It beckoned me to it's doors, pleading for me to open.
I refuse, and so it bursts open, nearly drowning me in thoughts and memories
and half-truths and buried secrets... I don't know what to make of this. I
can't explain this. Thoughts, emotions can't explain this. Words, even words
cannot explain this.
So Zeus said to himself " Foolish infidels, you've lived by our generousity
for long enough now you will face our wrath." After he got some immortality
giving Mount Olympus cookies from the cookie jar he sent for Mercury and said,
"Brother of mischief, do you have any ideas on how we could make human more
complicated, and yet more interesting to watch?" Finally after a few rejected
ideas like, making it rain from the ground, turning wood into cheese, the ocean
into jello, or having the smoke of their fire become rutabaga flavored ice
cream, they hit upon a most treacherous plan. Their plan was to make a ten
foot tall giant burping gerbil that was loved by humans. Then Mercury infested
the poor gerbil, named George, with disease infected fleas that jumped onto the
people, infecting them.
The first person to be bitten was named Ned, and he immediately started to
cough and get a runny nose. He was lucky because others faired worse, such as
those that got pneumonia, smokers cough, leprousy, and the Bubonic Plague-
started by one big nasty flea. Other diseases didn't show up until later
because they weren't very smart and bit trees, getting covered in tree sap that
preserved them. While they were trapped though many became smarter and even
more deadly, while they waited to be released when the tree either died or was
chopped down. Thus giving us diseases like AIDs. From then on the god's never
sent anything worse, but they still have to laugh to themselves every time
someone sneezes.
Now the bitch somehow finds out I've been in this looney bin and says that
I've been acting rudely, and all that shit. Then that whore calls me a nut! So
I start bawling like a bastard because I figure mabey this whole group of
phonies will think I'm sorry or some shit like that. Instead they say I'm
unstable and send me here, because they think it's the best place "for people
like me". Let me tell you, I've got a place I'd like to put them.
So anyhow, after they arrive at their "great solution", they give me two days
to pack and spend some time with my family. I figure this is a good thing
because it will give me a chance to pack and run away. So that night, my last
night at Hinkley, I pack my bags, and I get on the bus that will take me home.
However instead of going home I catch another bus that takes me farther into
the city of New York.
This gave me a full day of complete freedom, just like the three days of
freedom I had last time after I flunked out. This time I was determined to try
to grow up and enter the adult world, and boy did I really fuck things up.
That first night I went into some back-alley street place called "Lou's Whiskey
and Wed'n". I had 50 bucks and spent 10 on some cheap shit that tasted like a
bastard, but was "Gurnteed tah fu' ya up", according to some drunk that was
really plastered. After I bought a bottle I had 40 bucks left, the cost of a
"wed'n". Soon I noticed this decent looking woman of about thirty, giving me
this look that just said "I'm drunk, I'm horny, I like um young, let's get
married and go for it." I myself was pretty gone and so we got married. I
paid for the wedding cost, and she paid for a room I won't bore you with what
happened next, but damn was it good! So good I can even remember it through my
drunkenness.
Anyhow we woke up the next morning, hung over as hell and looking at
strangers, with our marriage certificate on the night stand. After a little
while most of it came back. I was surprised that she stayed around and didn't
run off, but later I figured this must of happened to her before, so she wasn't
too worried.
We got up at around noon, went to some coffee shop and got something to eat,
she paid. During our conversation she told me that we luckily weren't actually
married, and that it was just some gimmick Lou used to attract costumers. Oh,
I almost forget, she told me that her name was Lucy then, although she probably
also told me the night before too. Together we went back to the room and
gathered our things, and she left me with a kiss that was mostly phony and yet
partly with sympathy.
I then decided I had no place else to go, and so I went to the bus
that would take me home. On the bus ride I thought about Jane, and Phoebe and
how I wanted to be with them and go back in time with them to before that last
wonderful, terrible night. The night when I lost them forever. I now know that
I can never turn back and catch the people I've lost.
Lost my skin
When cults try to get people to join they look and pick out people who they
think will be susceptible to joining the cult. Things that they look for in
these people will be that they are travelers, distressed or depressed, or in
some kind of transitional phase such as college. Others include "elderly
persons and naive teenagers all of whom are likely to be hungry for
friendliness and warmth ad looking for affiliations." The ways that people are
recruited by are referred to as recruitment tactics and are common ways used by
members who recruit people. When a member is recruited it is by calculated not
casual means.
The first of these methods is showing concern for the "prospect". The
recruiter "expresses a presumptuous familiarity with his feelings and emotional
state which makes the prospect believe he is truly understood." Second is
Demonstrating acute, shared interest meaning they try to portray that
they have things in common with the prospect. Third is "holding eye
contact, maintaining close physical proximity, "coming on" sexually." Once
the recruiter becomes acquainted with the prospect they will then try to get
personal information "about the prospect's current situation and concerns,
problems, and stresses." If their tactics work then a bond will be formed by
this sharing of information and will probably want to stay in contact with the
recruiter. After this step the prospect will be deemed "ready". This step may
occur in minutes or after several meetings where the prospect will be asked to
attend a meeting which is often fitted to the prospect's interests.
To the prospect the recruiters seem to be very indulged with making their
"friend" happy. In fact the real reason is to quickly determine if the person
will be a good investment to the group. If the prospect does seem to be
worthwhile they will be bestowed with concern and asked to join the group.
The reasons that a person will join a cult are because they are vulnerable for
several reasons. Reason number one is stage development which is where
people with few responsibilities or commitments are lured in easily because of
their lack of experience plus their naivete making them open to accept easy and
simple answers by cults. Also with elderly people it applies because they will
often open up to recruiters who help around the house and do things with and
for them.
Then there are situational factors which is when a recruiter will go
after a person in a particularly stressful time in their life making them more
vulnerable to a "recruiter trying to sell happiness," because of a transitional
time in their life.
Next is personal background which is broken down into a few categories
as follows: Socio-economic background- ex. young poor people may be more
on-guard against cults than a middle income counter part because of their
frequent dealings with scam artists giving them "street smarts.", Education-
many cults recruit at colleges, and some are sponsored by an uninformed school
administration at high schools also some cults encourage followers to become
elementary teachers to influence children. Religious background- Christian
vulnerability: A cult leader may take over an entire church by becoming
involved in the church and becoming a religious teacher and eventually rising
to becoming an important leader. Jewish vulnerability: Hebrew Christian cults
recruit by "using Jewish symbols, terminology, rituals, and scripture to lure
unsuspecting prospects to their version of Sabbath services, passover seders,
etc., where they slowly and subtly they introduce the idea of Jesus as Lord of
the Jews."
Another is family closeness which is how close a family is to one
another and the amount and type of communication. Also whether the family is
more democratic or authoritative can contribute or take away from a person's
vulnerability.
Finally is psychological predispositions which means that some cult
tactics can be very similar to those used by hypnotists meaning that good
hypnotic subjects are highly susceptible to cult tactics.
The Gopher is a member of Z7Group and is graciously hosted on their server at
http://www.z7group.com/zines/gopher
Any comments or suggestions or submissions are welcome. Please send them to
thegopher@geocities.com
...or mail it to us at: The Gopher Society, PO Box 174, Thompson, Ohio,
44086-0174.
Return address not required. you never know, we might be afraid we're killers
and that we're gonna take you and stick you in vending machine coin slots and
staple you to the ceiling of our dark basement and torture you with duck tape.
We're afraid, too, which is why we've got a PO box in another town other than
ours.
I will congratulate the first Gopher PO Box submission in issue #6.
Subject: Extraterrestrial "gods" of Sumeria and Shadow Gov't Tie-ins
by the CIB Man and Rewired
Joined Allegations by a Variety of Researchers
Compiled by Rewired
Annihilated in [ ] by the CIB Man
Refuted in ( ) by Rewired
by Rewired
blame me, as I bleed, for this wild commotion
twist me up inside
suck me out my eyes
break me take me far away to my dark, dark, paradise
the black ocean in your eyes
you make me question why I sold myself
to anything else
why I told myself
it just wasn't worth it; that nothing was worth it
pain and misery is all that had become of me
until you came along and dug me out of this pit of death
how can I say it? thanks.
The Makings of an Assamite
Part II
by the CIB Man
by Rewired
by the CIB Man
by Rewired
by the CIB Man
from my eyes
you read them now
to drown in my sky
A thought reflected
in the ocean
A salty mist
A memory poured out
and dissipated
swallowed greedily
by thirsty mouths
and hungry minds
that gaze upon these words.
_____________________________________
my lips are blue
I lie dead
A life begun anew
The land still rolls
A pebble in space
Does death mean losing
in the human race?
Or is it the goal
where only winners can go?
If life has a meaning
it's to die on a pebble
and roll under ground
till new purpose
is found...
to feed the worms,
to grow new life...
beautiful flowers...
even pale and blue.
_____________________________________
what about it?
It's on my half foot long foot
and growing,
strong as an ox,
and tall as a turnip.
oh well, I'm hungry
are you?
soble
by Rewired
by Rewired
BGM Music,
CIB Man
Even Words
by Rewired
by the CIB Man
by Rewired
so damn the torpedoes, and have some fun
cometh thou; get high with us.
smoke a joint; hit a bong
tickle the ivories of your mind
twist and tear and burn them down
kill your brain and turn you blind.
what is it? that's not doing it for you?
march with this group of mine that follows the teachings of one
man who is his father and his fathers son
they're not really separate, but both they're the same
don't worry about it, blind fate's the game
burn Alexandrian Libraries, not enough?
follow a guy -- Jim Jones -- to Guyana and drink
Flav-or-aide mixed with cyanide
still not enough? chase after a UFO behind a meteor
don't ask why suicide is essential, dare you doubt one who knows everything?
guru here, guru there
if it's not drugs its religion
if its not religion is government
they're all corrupt
all seek to control and to seek and destroy
blind fate
I'd rather question existence for the rest of eternity than to trust
a guru
again.
by the CIB Man
by Rewired
didn't have a backbone to loose in the first place
my nerves are on ice
my mind is all jumbled
I'm out of my head now
there's something wrong,
I'm dying,
help me - I'm going blind
I can't break out of this mold
I escape out one mask into a new one
never any better
the outside stays the same
the same old mask, same old face, same old name
I'm so beaten down, strung-out, warped, tired
my mind is now twisted and my soul is on fire
not a truckload of your BS can wash away this mental stain
can't run off with my memories or blot our the pain
I walked on the tracks and here comes the train
pick up my pieces, rewire my brain
so here I am, rewired from the inside out
trying to get beyond what I know its not about
trying to learn some truth but can't master the mundane
can't face my own fears but I call for the rain
as it beats down on me
it helps me think
hung on a wire,
above a fire of truth
that I can gaze at but can't touch
is it just illusion?
I'm so tired.
I feel so dead.
CIB Man
Well, golly, kiddos. This is Mr G. filling in for Rewired on the end-note editorial thang.
This issue was a touch different, eh? Hope you enjoyed the literary explosions that are
Rewired and the CIB Man. As usual, Rewired asks that you (yes you) send in lots and lots of
submissions to get us through the lean summer months... We don't want you to become total
vegetables in the sun, now do we! You can send your summertime rants and raves to either the
email address or the P.O. Box. Have fun!
The Gopher is (c) 1997 by Rewired. All individual items are property of their
respective authors, which was just about me and Mister CIB this issue. Quotes
are property of those whom we've quoted, but I'm a fucking ninny and jot down
these GREAT quotes and forget the damn people who I quoted. I hereby command
you, feeble-minded earthling, to send copies of this e-zine to EVERY DAMNED
PERSON YOU KNOW. Send a copy of this or any other issue of the Gopher to five
and a half of your friends (meaning five and a half copies to five and a half
of your friends, for you non-brainers out there). Be a nice person, however,
and don't alter or otherwise fuck around with anything in this document or
we'll get whiny and send the Gopher swat team after you (the little fuzzy
rascals travel underground and can pinpoint you anywere.... their are sorta the
familiars of my friend, Gopherboy, or, as you know him, the CIB Man). Happy
Trails...
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