Quipu of Existential Mattering

I may not be making a lot of sense these days...as you can clearly See in my depiction of a maniacal grin...confusion is exuding from the crazed state of my inner core and sanctum.

You see...

My Multidimensional Existential Meaning Scale is off-kilter...it is no longer measuring the overall sense of meaning in this maddening life - including in the beyond where subscales for comprehension, purpose, and existential mattering exist.

Mizzling drizzling nugatory invective brings angry verbal attack words dripping into my quipu - what's my quipu - oh, that' my ancient Inca device for recording the vitriolic drippings spilling from the world these days.

Quipu/khipu - record-keeping devices fashioned from knotted colorful cords. Nowadays, I fear that I am as knotted on the inside as these quipu cords.

I hope you are percipient - understanding/noticing easily - the fatigue with long standing emotional issues seemingly unsolvable...which prevails, along with internecine problems...destructive to both sides of the world conflict. Spurious false news designed to seem plausible deluge our lives.

Makes me soporific - sleepy and lethargic.

I strongly feel that I am losing the innate ability to retain those artistic experiences of purpose, coherence, and significance in life.

I'm feeling the need to attribute supernatural qualities to artistic cussing, just so I can find the correlation with higher levels of life meaning.

I know...I know, I sound quite mad.

So...Pardon me if I let Paul do the cussing for me.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

Fuckity fuckity fuck

Time is running out

Borrowed without Sir Paul's permission...thanks P.

People’s perceptions of living lives imbued with purpose and meaning, seems to have literally vanished overnight.

Logic underlying the overarching hypothesis of our purpose for existence has flown out the window.

Ok. Raise your hands all who feel like zombies these days.

Fecking Angst, confusion and Anxiety...leaving our nerves on edge.

Lately, with the state of the world...and the utter confusion of wars, rumors of wars and bad decisions being made, left - right and center by egotistical maniacs...

Everyone now seems to exist in a permanent state of jangled, jingling mode of disassociated fugue and zombification....so befitting our Jamaican phrase of saying - "people no longer know their 'arse from their elbow".

F-ity... f-ity ...F

Time is running out - War is running in........Bombo.

Bombo...the Jamaican equivalent of your four letter cuss word.

Bombo. Bombo. Bombo. Bombo. Bombo. Bombo. Bombo. Bombo.

Days lean in - nights whisper danger,

Nothing direct is happening, not quite, not yet for some -

but the air trembles with the thought of it.

Hands and hearts ache, ears on alert,

doom hovers close,

like moths deciding if the flame is worth it.

Decency holds the line - but waxes thin as a silk thread,

unholiness glares bright as a dare.

We smile, hidden behind curtains half‑drawn,

letting in just enough light to make the shadows interesting.

The rooms stay proper, while the silence on the outside

shifts its weight, testing our inner floorboards,

wondering how far a moment can lean

before it falls and goes to Hell.

Our laughs now linger too long,

our caution brushed a little too close,

and the universe raises an eyebrow

as if to say,

“Careful now -

that’s how the madness starts.”

....................