There was a man

There was a man

by Jon Rappoport

March 8, 2016

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)

There was a man.
The world was crowding in on him
It was taking some part of his breath
This is the way it seemed
So clearly
This was his calculation
This was the dream in which he walked more slowly
Adding up the facts
And then

There was a bright machine
It was also walking
But briskly with a sense of purpose
It solved problems but it had no problems
It was true
He wanted to function as the machine
He wanted to take all his problems
And feed them to the machine
He wanted that confident brightness
He believed he could have it
He believed there could be a god machine
And a god solver
And a god witness
And a god caretaker
Who would come to the cemetery of his death
And take him out of the memories collecting in his headstone
And bring him back
And execute a mystic transference
And then he would know what could be known
And the rest would be offloaded
If a machine could do it
So could he
Because machines were born out of desire
Out of chaos
Wasn’t he entitled
To the same emerging precision?
Wasn’t this the goal of evolution?
Might he assist the human race
In its ascension?
Might he become known as one of the first?
Could he be a pioneer?
People would see him as a building or a rocket
Or a system overseeing many functions at once
Who had the right to deny him that wish?
It was an issue of dissolving
He would dissolve
Self would no longer exist
And then problems would have no surface to adhere to
He would be a Buddha machine
He would be the lost prophet coming back out of the desert
He would have spoken with the unending flow of computation
Hovering in the dusk and dawn
Working out humanity’s problems
He could be that phantom bridge
Between lost souls and the new magic
Negotiating surgery on emotions
Taking away the old plague
Erasing the histories
Shepherding the passage
Across the split between past and future

There was a man.
And then there wasn’t.

He was now even beyond shape
He was an aurora
Infiltrating the collective dust of thoughts in space
Vaccinating against mystery with purified waves of pleasure
Staining great walls
In the dark

His appraisal of state of mind:
Something is pouring into nothing
I am that nothing

Ladders of interpretation have carried me away
I am lost to what I was

He stopped
He was part of something that moved on

He was in a great funnel that deposited him in a desert on the fringe of a city
And there he stayed

Until he thought

I am an atom in a system
I am an atom in a syndicate

This is not it

Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE 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 NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

4 comments on “There was a man

  1. Lesha Martin says:


  2. davidgaskill says:

    … and finally the man realized that he was really a nanoparticle in a murderous chemtrail glaze coating the desert he had eagerly helped to create, and that the elites on their lush, slave-worked estates were laughing at him and his kind, laughing all the way to the bank.

  3. Sha'Tara says:

    You got it, Jon. That’s exactly how it is. Some of us wake up in time though.

  4. Michael Burns says:


    “There [sic] was a man.

    And then there wasn’t.”


    He is not dreaming his dreams anymore…

    He is dreaming someone elses’

    The whole flavour has changed the smell of it

    The dream

    The space itself had changed

    He left the desert and came to new place

    A bigger place

    bigger space

    small house

    And he thought

    and there it was…instant and impressive

    And the whole changed

    Smells from a child’s past, from a child’d past keep coming forward in an old way

    To a new one

    A remnant

    something of importance

    and the stranger takes over and he (the man) is not himself

    The complaint is that life must be lived

    that strength lies in gnowing and the genius of creation

    Imagination overdrive

    There was a starving Buddha once

    And his famine was not from lack of food

    And a Buddha that still doesnt care

    carries on inside the prison of one

    The oh so bright and shiny machine


    The machine broke once and a kindly passer-by fixed it…

    but didn’t know it any more than

    it being a toy

    And so he fixed  the gizmo

    And now that bright shiny thing tell nothing but lies

    But the lies are told in such a way as to make those who listen

    believe it as a god

    Sometimes the man will stretch out flat as he can and watch the self-described importance of it all

    go about its business

    The business of telling its lies to itself

    The business of telling the world it’s lies

    This is it

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