You can have consciousness made out of poetry or brain surgery

You can have consciousness made out of poetry or brain surgery

by Jon Rappoport

March 22, 2014

www.nomorefakenews.com

~recounted as a dialogue~

Well, Jim, we found a few interesting things when we went into your brain.”

Really?”

Yes. A whole lot of poems, in fact.”

What?! Impossible. That has to be a mistake. I’m just an ordinary guy. I go to work, have a few beers, take the train home, eat dinner, read the paper, do a little note-writing on experiments at the lab, go to bed around midnight…”

Jim, I’m not asking for your biography—”

I know, Doc, but what you’re telling me is crazy. I like a limerick now and then, but the weird stuff…Shakespeare and Milton…that’s for the dome heads. I’m just…”

You’re a regular guy. Got that, Jim. However, I can show you X-rays. Scans. There’s poetry in your brain, and it’s threatening to take over your cerebral cortex unless we go in and do a second surgery.”

Take over? You’re joking.”

You have to face up to a few things, Jimbo. You’re actually posing as just another Joe, and it’s a good impression, I’m sure, but inside you there are poems waiting to come out. And if they do, it’s going to get ugly, believe me. For one thing, you’ll see more.”

See more what?”

More of what existence can be.”

THERE ISN’T ANYTHING MORE. There’s what I do every day. My work. My family. My salary. Beers with the boys. Football. I love football.”

Yes, we all love football, Jim. It’s mandatory. But you…let me read one of the poems we found in your brain.”

HELL NO.”

It won’t hurt that much.”

I don’t want to hear it.”

Now as I was young and easy, under the apple boughs, about the lilting house, and happy as the grass was green—”

STOP!”

Okay, Jim, take it easy, it’s in your head, don’t blame me. We’ve discovered that…how I can put this…on some level you’re always thinking in poetry. Your whole consciousness is involved, and if we were to take the poems away, you’d go into a deep sleep, a kind of amnesia, perhaps a coma, and you’d never wake up. So we can’t surgically remove the poems. At best we can bury them deeper.”

Do it. Bury them. Bury them all.”

Yes, Jim, but hear me out. If we do that, you’ll lose something.”

You mean I won’t like football anymore?”

No, Jim. You’ll still have football. But you might not have beer. Just kidding. Ha-ha. What you might lose is your interest in life.”

What do you mean?”

You may not feel alive in the same way. You could become very dull.”

How’s that possible, Doc. You’re just getting rid of poems. Who cares?”

Well, Jim, apparently you do. As much as you’d like to deny it, your existence, your feeling about what it means to be alive—even though you’re trying to emphasize how ordinary you are—is wrapped up in a certain poetic consciousness. I know, it’s strange. But again, don’t blame me.”

Look, Doc, you went into my skull to remove some kind of little blockage. And then you came up with these poems. And now you want to bury them. But you say if you do, I might turn into a zombie.”

In the surgery, Jim, there was a leakage. Poems started to come through. We put in a plug, but it’s just temporary. It’s a delicate situation. Going back in a second time, we either let out all the poems, or we build a thicker wall.”

Let me ask you a question, Doc. This thing, consciousness. What is it?”

It’s two things, Jim. It’s what makes you know you’re alive, and it’s also how you’re alive. That second part is tricky. You’re connecting with the rhythm and sound of certain thoughts, certain energies. And these energies would NEVER come through to you if it weren’t for language, and that language is poetic. It’s much greater than the reality we see around us. You dampen down that language, Jim, because you want to appear normal. It’s your goal in life, to pretend not to understand anything about this. Do you see? You want to come off like a regular guy, who’s smart and good at his job, and who knows what’s happening in the world. But you don’t want to admit you’re connected to…that thing you’re afraid of.”

But LOOK. I AM a regular guy. All right, so I read the newspaper and I can look behind the stories and I can see a lot of the con games the government is playing on people. I know something about who’s running the show, who’s behind the curtain. I take pride in that. But this poetry thing. It’s crazy.”

Yes, I understand, Jim. But that’s not going to cut it in this case. We’re at a serious crossroad. We have to do something. You’re playing with fire, trying to deny your connection. Because on some level, you’re participating in a greater reality. You’re thinking on a different plane, and that thinking is what we call poetry. We could call it Budweiser, but it wouldn’t make any difference. It’s thought with higher force. And it’s coming from you, from your mind. You want to say you’re living in a pond, but you’re living in the ocean. Let me put it this way. If you weren’t accessing oceanic consciousness, you couldn’t step it all down and appear to be a normal very smart guy. It wouldn’t work. You’d have nothing to step down from.”

What would I be?”

A broccoli. A head of lettuce.”

You’re serious?”

As serious as an aneurism, Jim.”

Geez, Doc, this is bad. My whole reputation, my whole rep with MYSELF is riding on the fact that I’m a hardheaded realist. Do you get what’s at stake here?”

Of course I do. That’s why I’m being so forthcoming. I could have put you under without you knowing it and just cut into your skull again. But I wanted to explain the whole thing to you and give you a choice. You see, Jim, the truth is we’re all living in a charade. We’re all faking it. We’re pretending we don’t have these fantastic energies in us. We’re all stepping it down to average and normal and smart.

It just so happens that, by the luck of the draw, my assistant in the OR nicked a little piece of your brain and opened up a portal into what we’re all trying to avoid. We’re all hooked up to our own poetic centers. I don’t mean little stupid rhymes. I mean great language that vaults us up into atmospheres and spaces that…well, I can’t really do it justice sitting here talking to you. But this is mind control here, Jim. The most profound kind. Self-induced. We do it to ourselves. We cut off access. We keep ourselves ignorant about the language we have…the genuine language that comes out of imagination. If I operate on you again, there’s a chance the wall we build will be too thick, and you’ll wake up with very little awareness. You’ll be regular and normal and average for REAL. And trust me, Jim, that’s a nightmare. I’ve seen it.

What should I do, Doc?”

Take a chance, Jim. Let us clear away any scar tissue and just leave an open portal. Let the language and the energies come through. From one faker to another, go for it. Go for the great adventure. Who knows what’ll it be? One thing’s for sure. You won’t be sitting here whining to me. You’ll be you. Dealing with that won’t be easy, but with enough guts, you could make it through. You could show us what we don’t want to see.”

Doesn’t sound very appealing.”

That won’t be your problem, Jim. I guarantee it. The problem is, it’ll be too appealing.”

Sounds dangerous.”

I wouldn’t put it that way. Being who you are is what you’ve sacrificed your whole life. You’re going to retract that sacrifice. Think of it that way. You’re going to pull away the sacrifice like an old coat and burn it in the fire of a thousand new suns…”

Or else come back as a carrot.”

In which case, people around you will still think you’re Jim, but inside you won’t be anybody or anything. You’ll be a robot with no real consciousness.”

I hate poetry, Doc.”

Why do you think that is, Jim?”

I don’t know. I want things to be simple and clear. Like a story. Beginning, middle, end.”

Wrapped up like a nice neat package.”

That’s right.”

Like your life.”

Why not?”

You tell me.”

I hate poetry.”

We all do, Jim. It reminds us of something we’d rather forget.”

So help me forget it, Doc.”

You want to be a zombie.”

If that’s what it takes.”

Imagine a world full of zombies, Jim. Everybody cut off from their oceanic consciousness.”

Sounds good. Sounds like realism. No more conflict. No more demons.”

Demons? Is that what you think I’m talking about, Jim? Your greatest thoughts and energies expressed with their greatest force, with—”

They’re not RATIONAL, Doc. They’re meaningless. I don’t understand those thoughts. They don’t make any sense.”

If we build that wall in your brain, Jim, what’s left of you will be a machine. Do you get that?”

That’s what I want. I want to be a machine. I’ll be fine.”

Well…okay, kid. Your choice. Your destiny. We’ll prep you for surgery. We’ll make those trillion watts of energy shrink down to a ten-watt bulb.”

This thing you call poetic consciousness, Doc? It’s just a delusion. And I want to get rid of it.”

Okay, Jim, I’ll put the genie back in the bottle.”

Nice talking to you, Doc.”

I wish that were true, Jim. TYGER, TYGER, BURNING BRIGHT, IN THE FORESTS OF THE NIGHT, WHAT IMMORTAL HAND OR EYE COULD FRAME THY FEARFUL SYMMETRY?”

See, Doc. That’s just what I mean. What the hell kind of talk is that? I don’t understand it! Get rid of it!”

Sorry, kid, it just slipped out. I’ll go get ready. Relax. The nurse’ll be in in a minute. Piece of cake.”

Poetry. Ridiculous. It’s for idiots.”

Sure, kid.”

We don’t need poets.”


Exit From the Matrix


Of course not. One world is aware and by far the largest to me, and that is
myself,
And whether I come to my own to-day or in ten thousand or
ten million years,
I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can
wait.

My foothold is tenon’d and mortis’d in granite,
I laugh at what you call dissolution,
And I know the amplitude of time.

I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul,
Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees!
Earth of departed sunset…Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon!…

Jon Rappoport

The author of two explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED and EXIT FROM 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 emails at www.nomorefakenews.com

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5 comments on “You can have consciousness made out of poetry or brain surgery

  1. Barbara says:

    Interesting. Serendipity that you published this post today. This morning I was mulling over my talk that I’m to give to writers about how I got published by a mainstream publisher. Part was kismet. Long story. Anyway, the other part was that I broke all the rules that the gods of fiction writing say will get authors published. Never, ever writing in poetic prose is one of them. I started out of the gate using the Prologue as a poetic allegory that readers will have to think about. I slipped in poetic phrases to use nature as allegories. From what I gather from the reviews on Amazon is that readers like my style of writing. So, the lemming editors are wrong. Maybe they should ask readers what they want to read instead of forcing them into reading boring stories that just “tell it,” and of course, adding a sex scene every so many pages. I didn’t do that either. In fact, I made readers wait a good long time for that first kiss.

    Please keep up your interesting writing that makes us have to think.

  2. Jarrod says:

    Thank you again for reminding me how and why people cling to normalcy. I need reminded that they, deep down, KNOW the infinite potential that sits dormant inside them, but are afraid to unleash it. It seems like I keep thinking erroneously that if they were just made aware of their true, infinite self then it would magically awaken them, but its a bigger problem than that. People, THEMSELVES are the primary author of the chains that bind them, and that fact is in turn exploited by outside agencies, many of whom are guilty of binding themselves as well. But where you and I perhaps differ (maybe not but maybe so) is that I think and feel there is some type of predatory consciousness above and beyond the technocratic types, and they are well aware of man’s infinite potential and their game is manipulating that awesome power and funneling it in their direction because they can’t generate it themselves.

  3. m. m says:

    Hey! I really enjoyed your story, and the timing it’s marvelous and kind of frightening, too. Just like your character’s crossroad situation.

    What do you think if I try to translate it into Spanish? I’m a bookbinder from Argentina. I just sell books I like on public places, now and then and with more or less determination! But the spirit is there.

    Anyway, tell me what you think.

    M.

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