VISIONS OF THE EMPIRE: A poem for the 21st century, (Excerpt 003)

by Jon Rappoport (Copyright 2021)

November 21, 2022

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For the full poem, click here.

Excerpt 003:

Fifty million video cameras record the washed out moment-tomoment
ballet in streets and offices

people stop for a moment in a bulging tableau
light peers in through immobile troughs of fury
complaints are frozen

all the children of America with their endless needs are frozen

We slashed our way through faded blue Virginia mountain ranges
ruled by subhuman priests
lizards crawled through the sunlight between leaves on rumbling
trees spreading out their knuckles above ground

Through dream gardens of the starlit Sagittarius, coral horses,
amber-fed lichen
we walked the Cherokee Trail glittering with bodies frozen in the
silver fog

We flew over steaming cities and freezing cities and came to the
Asia plain of tropical magic where the walls of enduring space were
cracked and broken and the false curtain of the sky lay at half-mast
torn and stained

Here the empire had shriveled and small mobs wandered under
saturated space broken off from the Maypole of trance

We still hear a voice of freedom
in the
aether

now freedom barks like a dog
it weeps over stones
it demands cash
it lies in the mud and croaks
flees a burning church

On a parapet at the center of an unknown city, we hear a bovine
preacher of the sub-brain announce:

Adore! Adore!

We have

A

New

God

And

Time

Is

Peeling off

Around him.

Adore! Adore!

Your life

Is being

Mapped out

In steel-banded

Central Planning

Operating

From

The Temple

Of the Just

A gram of license

For every ton of compliance

This is the new energy equation

One

Glittering

Breath

Of

Spontaneously inhaled

Stolen

Money

leveled like an exploding shell

o leader

your only remaining job

is the calculation

of the religious component

how to mountaintop

and sell that vacation view

theocratic meteors

whirling around the crown

what testament

and scripture

will you

invent

for the made-holy parade

of intercellular

electronic

money laundering

(left hand to the right)

how will you

market

the ark

of androids

what murders

will you

recast

as

sacrifices

made

on behalf of

the

rising

membership

in the

temple

of

those

seeking

justice

a node

of memoryless

cold blue light

shining on

citizens

entranced

in trust

Adore! Adore!

The rebellion is over!

Everything

We hoped for

Granted!

Now

By the blessed

Eye

Capture and Love are the same!

Their

Separation

Was

Our

Sin

We

Surrender

To

The Egoless

Cage

Adore! Adore!

All

Objections

Are

Swept away

This

Is

Our

Day

Our

Hope

Has Been

Justified

In the

Temperament

Of

The Wise

Who

Unleash

A hurricane

To catapult us

Into

The new world

Adore! Adore!

One shapeless limp impulse

Desperately shared by nine billion people

Dissolves

The threshold

Of mystery

And opens at last

The door

To

The everlasting

Life

This is the apotheosis of

What

We have all

Been unconsciously seeking

I see populations surge through golden avenues wrapped around the
upper stories of Orphic ships waiting for solar winds

I open books in a shining arboretum, ten-thousand-foot wells pour
from the sky down into stratified layers of rock…

Summer night on an old porch, rhododendrons are thrashed by slow
comets of rain

there is a sleep so pervasive numbing the chest and shoulders, a
despair so charming as to be final, a titanic loss of mobility

there were buildings in the old World War 2 Paris that looked like
beautiful rotting vegetables propped on the ark of the River
windows scalloped stone sacred mucosal choirs

in a nostalgic vortex
death is a protocol
a virginal reopening of the wound
insignia piping gardens from its royal wax
into the dark
old pleasures run in familiar magnetic channels

Ah, this is old-world death, the happiness of remembering time, a
thing of wonder in the thrall of dying autumn
and then we knew what could be lost, and then we knew we were
seeing each other fading on sheets of papyrus
and we dropped through the earth

flaming
into the legend of the unconscious
and
struggled back and emerged up into the lights of the city

We move through the halls of this summertime life
the meridians of gills breathing in and out, in and out
and cross the bridges of memory
and are New

We punch through the wax of space-time into the warm rain

we unplug the money presses

we abandon the long steel trading tables and the slaughtering floor

we defect

we drink the root turning into the bud
the bud turning to grain

we brush away the choking filaments of narcosis and finally admit
our immortality

we walk in the canopy of clouds
in the canal where time and space are bolted, cloth to cloth

We ride tigers across the Styx into the mud houses of Hades and
blow sacks of north wind to clean the ruined stables of broadcast
memory

We race up the canyons of the Rockies, we float on the Salt Lake in
mirrors of gold

We walk out of the house in the middle of the night and watch the
magnolia tree in the little grassy island open white flowers of joy!

Sing now!
Speak now!

Tear away the seal on the tomb!

MAGICIANS!
MASTERS OF TIME!
in any weather, any season
long forgotten and hidden in hard flesh
they are there!
all the fires are out
all the wars of the bankrupt versus the bankrupt are over


(Episode 30 of Rappoport Podcasts — “The War against the Woke Mob: Assessing their battle plan, their strengths and weaknesses; the economy is the key; what’s their business model; what’s our business model; how can money be turned into a revolution that Your Highest Principles wouldn’t mind?” — is now posted on my substack. It’s a blockbuster. To listen, click here. To learn more about This Episode of Rappoport Podcasts, click here.)


Exit From the Matrix

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


To read Jon’s articles on Substack, click here.


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.

VISIONS OF THE EMPIRE: A poem for the 21st century, (Excerpt 002)

by Jon Rappoport (Copyright 2021)

October 27, 2022

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For the full poem, click here.

Excerpt 002:

I saw politicians jumping out of floating windows
their briefcases cracking open
spilling secrets like lazy snowflakes
dazzling in the sun
trillion dollar thefts
naked amazons stashed in condos and yachts
banks sucking money from the vacuum of the heavens
dead agents

in a rock pasture outside Des Moines hitchhiking to New York
glimpses of prehistoric time
before the beginning before the beginning of sacred money
before the first idols were built, before sacrifice was thought of, sly
prophets were trying on robes and combing out their long hair and
rehearsing their future executions

Standing up on a hill past Albuquerque on 66, I caught a ride into a
no-name Arizona town, walked in the foggy morning along an empty
road to a pine-filled snow-filled cliff and stared out at a spring valley
a thousand feet below

In blinding rain I stood on the Indiana Turnpike outside Chicago
pointed east and wound up in the Pennsylvania countryside driving
the car of a half-crippled man with a Bible I met in a Howard
Johnson
our headlights went dead on a curve and a cop pulled in behind us
and stopped us
he led us to a fat judge’s house in the middle of the night where we
paid thirty bucks
then parked on a quiet lane and slept until dawn
early spring in March
flowering magnolia trees
he dropped two Thorazine and told me to drive
and his babbling about Heaven slowed down and he slept
and when we pulled into Manhattan he had me park in midtown
he looked at me with glazed doe’s eyes and said
son, I’ve reached the end of the line, this is it, within a month I’ll kill
myself

I walked along the astral cloisters of Wall Street among crowds
lapping at honey loopholes in a web of proprietary secrets and I flew
through steel walls into the psychotic fandango of the international
electronic invented money Surge

I recorded architects laying out blueprints for the perfect human in
bunkers of Virginia where silent factories printed minds whose
memories could be selectively erased
technicians built new bodies from tendons and ligaments of cougars
and predatory owls and membranes from soldier ants and feral dogs

I walked through fields of cactus east of Tijuana
into caverns of mass graves where sacrificed Aztec skeletons still
stank in pulsing blood rhymes of a toothless hobo Ziggurat

I sat in the courtroom where the two-hundred-year trial of America
labored like a wounded beast, witness after witness screaming
accusations at captains of production and dark iron-masked
prosecutors hammered their fists on tables and smooth Rockefeller
men sat in the witness box and advocated drugging the population

One Sunday night I walked out of a small bookstore on 3rd Avenue
and a drunken Ben Franklin, wearing his waistcoat and slippers, his
spectacles halfway down his crooked nose, pulled me over to the
doorway of a paint store, and whispered:
“I should prefer, to an ordinary death, being immersed
with a few friends in a cask of Madeira, until that time,
then to be recalled to life by the solar warmth of my
dear country!”

he patted me on the cheek and grinned

What about the weathered Declaration on which you staked your
honor, your future, your fortune, your life, I ask him

His face turns sour
Oh that, he says
They sold it for a war, and it fetched a handsome price
They sold it for a bank, and rated it a fair exchange
They sold it for a choking nightmare called the greater good, and it
drained their living blood
They sold it for a legend of heaven under a burning copper sky and it
vaporized in the whirlwind


(Episode 28 of Rappoport Podcasts — “Why Do I Spend My Time Fighting All This Bullshit? Or, Have We Reached Paradise Yet with the Rainbows and Marshmallows?” — is now posted on my substack. It’s a blockbuster. To listen, click here. To learn more about This Episode of Rappoport Podcasts, click here.)


Exit From the Matrix

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


To read Jon’s articles on Substack, click here.


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.

VISIONS OF THE EMPIRE: A poem for the 21st century, (Excerpt 001)

by Jon Rappoport (Copyright 2021)

October 20, 2022

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For the full poem, click here.

Excerpt 001:

After money was sold down the river and resurrected on a cross of
blood
After a cash-loaded God strolled into town
After the Universal Hospital drugged synapses and drove the wild
horses of imagination down into underground canyons
and sculpted androids stepped out in the aftermath buying back their
own memories

geologic wraiths spiraled up inside television sets—
their only ambition to stunt prayers for deliverance and kill raw
desire—

we watched wildcats of Texas dripping sweat into their high hats
pull black blood out of the ground and send it through tubes of night
to porcupine refineries on the shores of the Body of Christ
apostles were resurrected in knife-cutter fins of long Cadillacs
running hot across the Kansas plains with blondes in the back seat
drinking

New horizontal towns were multiplying on Long Island, stage flats
of perfect geometry coddled in the breasts of hopeful mothers asking
for redemption from pill-addled afternoons and hallucinatory music
cooking in shining ovens
monthly budgets laid out neatly on Formica
counters below the knives
distant farm fields dead in the snow
blank-eyed children walking in the snow
cultivating nightmares they would one day visit on Reality

I flew over those fields and heard the crackerbox houses rot and rust
as nothing ever rotted before

We tamed the wolf and the copperhead
we broke a pond of ice and sent Promethean serpents to force a
tunnel all the way down to the volcanic hats of ancient Chinese poets
We tracked mobs and gangs and politicians and drowned them in
thunderous secret rivers under the Southwest deserts
we launched charges against the bosses and carried our prosecutions
into courtrooms of fish eye and coral and waving undersea weeds
and dragged paid-off judges from their galleon-wrecked thrones

We stood in the blinding sunlight reflected from low slung
whitewashed buildings of Pasadena and El Segundo and Long Beach
and felt the roar of departing space rockets cutting tunnels through
the future and pulling back the future with giant magnets of
illuminated dust

We walked through measureless windows of wheat and corn
growing in the middle flatlands under the warm rain of supernatural
mansions

We draped curtains of night in the upper hills of Los Angeles where
the mountain lion and the coyote and the melted mythical Greek
beast roamed like vagabonds free of the Wheel

Under poles of yellow lights, gasping midnight locomotives clamped
on to lines of freight cars in the backyards of Chicago

Plastic lilies grew in the pastures of St. Louis haberdashers and
department stores

In White Plains we carved a diamond on cracked asphalt and
climbed a decaying elm and walked along the iron railing of the
fence holding rotting branches and threw marbles down on to Davis
Avenue and watched them bounce into the muddy stream of World
War Two newspapers and swollen milk cartons and broken whiskey
bottles and torn black jackets of old soldiers who had died in snow
drifts over the winter and mysteriously disappeared

I ran under trees filled with light green inchworms hanging from
long threads until I was invisible
and glimpsed smiling robots sitting in cafes in the next
platinum century

In Los Angeles, concrete sunset of three stacked freeways, a carpet
of park in Beverly Hills, old poolroom on Broadway downtown, bus
to San Francisco, a bum holding out his hand and saying On Venus
Jesus will show you machines of love


(Episode 27 of Rappoport Podcasts — “The War in the Ukraine; How It Came to This; Tracing the death of PEACE” — is now posted on my substack. It’s a blockbuster. To listen, click here. To learn more about This Episode of Rappoport Podcasts, click here.)


Exit From the Matrix

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


To read Jon’s articles on Substack, click here.


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.

One of the Great Things About Art

by Jon Rappoport

August 25, 2022

(To join our email list, click here.)

You can change it.

You can walk into your studio, look at a painting you finished yesterday, and paint over it.

There’s no rule.

You could look at a line you wrote, “I had three trees in my yard,” and change it to, “I had three yards in my tree.”

If you like the change, you don’t have to explain it to anyone.

On the other hand, if you want to explain it, you might end up writing an 800-page book about changing one line. It could be an interesting book.

A film director once told me he read a script an agent sent him, and told the agent the story didn’t really work, but if the whole thing took place in an insane asylum, and the characters were inmates, he would considering taking it on.

Change.

I did that with an article. I read the piece, didn’t like it—then decided to make it a document that provoked a criminal trial in the future, in which the author was accused of a crime—and voila, I was all set.

You write a story. If the locale doesn’t work, change it. Put it on another planet. Now you have six new ideas, and the story becomes a novel.

You can plan out a novel meticulously, or you can make it up as you write it.

The greatest film comedy I’ve ever seen, His Girl Friday, was based on a stage play, but one of the two lead characters was changed from a man to a woman—and suddenly the romance that blossomed in the film gave rise to fabulous dialogue between Roz Russell and Cary Grant.

I would argue that some of the staunchest supporters of independence from England in Colonial America started out with profit motives. They wanted to enrich themselves by breaking with the Crown. But eventually, they saw the far wider principle of individual freedom come into view. And they shifted gears into a higher purpose.

Change.

It loosens and cuts chains.


(Episode 20 of Rappoport Podcasts — “Crisis at the Southern Border Exploding Now: The Black Lives Matter Connection and How George Soros, Mexico, and China Are Engineering This Crisis to Destroy America” — is now posted on my substack. It’s a blockbuster. To listen, click here. To learn more about This Episode of Rappoport Podcasts, click here.)


Exit From the Matrix

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


To read Jon’s articles on Substack, click here.


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.

Somtimes

by Jon Rappoport

August 11, 2022

(To join our email list, click here.)

Sometimes I think the land is taking over.

It’s going to bite back. It’s had enough of human activity.

I’m not talking about any human concerns or groups with their agendas. I’m talking about something apart from all that.

Of course, I’m just speculating. I might be wrong. Maybe the march of technology will go on for a few hundred years. If so, I’m not sure any of us would want to be around for that life.

At any rate, the land can deal with anything we put on it or in it. Maybe not right away, but eventually. And it doesn’t need our help. The idea that it does is a fatuous human pretension.

At one time, I lived in a place that was filled with trees. Maples and oaks. I imagined running along narrow roads—so fast, I could turn invisible.

I’m sure many of those trees are still there. I don’t know whether they remember. It’s possible they do.

In that place, the houses had lawns and trees and bushes and small gardens. In early April, when the snow and the ground were starting to melt into mud, an old man named Jim would come trudging up the road with his bag of tools. He was a gardener. He took care of the lawns and the hedges and the gardens. He’d been doing it for a long time. Nobody asked him to anymore. It was a given. Jim worked, and people paid him. He would work all the way into the late fall, and then he would go away. Maybe his spirit is still there. Who knows? He might be waiting and watching like a tree.

Once I lived in a small annex next to a house at the bottom of a steep hill. I looked at it and remembered I’d painted a hill several years earlier that looked very much like it. I thought or imagined or realized some spirit might be hovering above the trees.

Land and sky and water can do that to you.

When we rain blows against a great giant, he stands there and lets us. He isn’t affected. He understands why we’re doing it. He waits. Eventually, when he takes over, he does it with ease.

From the human point of view, it might seem we’ve lost. But he doesn’t see it that way.


(Episode 18 of Rappoport Podcasts — “Busting Fake Reality: The Job of the Century; The Knight’s Journey” — is now posted on my substack. It’s a blockbuster. To listen, click here. To learn more about This Episode of Rappoport Podcasts, click here.)


(For my “For Writers: My Instructions” series, click here — for Part 1)


Exit From the Matrix

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


To read Jon’s articles on Substack, click here.


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.

Rappoport interviewed

by Jon Rappoport

July 6, 2022

(To join our email list, click here.)

What’s your view on disinformation?

I’m convinced I can spot it.

Are you tolerant when you do?

Of course not.

So you’re just as bad as the government.

Wrong. I’m not setting up a Board to censor disinformation.

You’re intolerant, yet tolerant.

Exactly.

You’re convinced you’re right, but you want to allow other people to be wrong.

Correct.

Suppose you’re wrong about a piece of information?

Then I’m wrong. That doesn’t mean I want to be censored.

Why not? Suppose you have 9 million readers and all but one of them want you to be censored?

Then I’m writing to that one reader.

And you’d be satisfied with that?

Of course not.

And if the government wants to censor you?

I resist. We see what happens.

So you’re in favor of radical free speech?

Free speech isn’t radical. It’s free.

But you don’t highlight other people’s views in your writing.

Sure I do. I quote them.

But you rely on yourself.

Who else am I supposed to rely on?

Experts?

If you mean people with degrees and official standing, then no. Unless they can prove their case.

Why doesn’t the New York Times quote you?

They don’t want to.

Why not?

You know, I’m friends with the managing editor of the Times.

You are?

Just the other day, we were having drinks together and he told me, “If we quoted you, Jon, our whole operation here would collapse.”

He said that?

He’s mentioned it more than once. I’ve suggested that the collapse of the Times would be a good thing. I would help him build from the ashes. He doesn’t seem to be interested.

Does he want to censor you?

He and his pals are censoring me right now.

What? What do you mean?

You’re only reading part of what I’m writing. Huge chunks disappear as I set them down on the page.

What do the chunks say?

If I rewrite them, they’ll vanish before you read them.

Are the chunks important?

They’re vital.

Maybe they should be censored.

Why?

If they think the chunks shouldn’t see the light of day…

You’ll never get a chance to decide.

Maybe I don’t care.

Or maybe you’re just lazy or scared.

I’m cautious about digesting information.

Information isn’t a pill, you know. You can look it over, read it, come to a conclusion yourself.

Right now, are you writing chunks that are disappearing?

Between my last two answers, three hours elapsed. I wrote 16 pages, and they vanished.

They were important?

Very.

Are you troubled by that?

I press on, regardless. Are you troubled?

Maybe a little. The idea of disappearing text—instantly disappearing—

That’s what censorship is.

I never get a chance to see it?

That’s what I’m telling you.

OK. I want the chance to see it.

You and millions of people want that chance to see and read what thousands of other people are writing and saying.

This is eerie. I don’t like it.

Why should you like it?

I have to go.

Where?

Back to my job.

What do you do?

I work for a company that wouldn’t like it if they knew I were talking to you.

What company is that?

I censor that chunk of information.


(Episode 14 of Rappoport Podcasts — “The Real President, Part 2; This is bigger than you know. This is bigger than any of us knows” — is now posted on my substack. It’s a blockbuster. To listen, click here. To learn more about This Episode of Rappoport Podcasts, click here.)


(For my “For Writers: My Instructions” series, click here — for Part 1)


Exit From the Matrix

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


To read Jon’s articles on Substack, click here.


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.

Art and Reality: a dialogue, part two

by Jon Rappoport

June 27, 2022

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(This article is Part-2 in a series. For Part-1, click here.)


So you’re saying, in art a turtle can become a cigarette.

Or a house or a cloud or a fountain pen.

Why?

There is no why.

There must be.

A person wants to change reality.

In absurd ways?

Sure. Why not?

Because other people won’t understand.

We keep coming back to that. What other people understand is not a religion, you know. You don’t have to pray to it.

But we all live in the same world.

By that proposition, we’d all have zero imagination.

So imagination breaks out of…

Sameness.

In calculated ways?

In all sorts of ways. You keep breaking out enough, those ways will change.

You’ll make turtles into spaceships.

If you want to.

Who would want to?

I don’t know. Anyone might.

Just because?

Just because.

That seems flippant.

So? Is there a law against being flippant?

People want to be taken seriously.

All the time? Forever? I don’t think so.

What kind of imagination is good imagination?

Every person makes that decision.

On what basis?

On whatever basis he chooses.

You keep coming back to the individual.

Who else should I come back to? A group?

What’s wrong with a group?

Just about everything.

Why?

A group doesn’t think or invent. After a certain point, it passes stale bread among its members.

So you advise leaving groups.

An artist works according to his own choices.

Suppose his choices are limited?

He has to widen them.

How?

By deciding to.

Just like that?

Just like that.

Very few people can do that.

Really? How do you know?


Exit From the Matrix

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


To read Jon’s articles on Substack, click here.


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.

Art and Reality: a dialogue

by Jon Rappoport

June 24, 2022

(To join our email list, click here.)


(This article is Part-1 in a series. For Part-2, click here.)


So you say art turns reality upside down.

Or inside out. Or sideways.

Why?

Because that is the impulse.

Of the artist?

Of everyone. But of the artist, yes.

And this impulse comes from where?

From an attempt to go further.

Further than what?

Further than reality has already gone.

This is an unavoidable impulse?

Yes. You can try to squash it, but it keeps surfacing.

Why aren’t more people artists then?

Because they can’t predict what will happen if they follow the impulse.

Isn’t the unpredictable exciting?

It should be.

So you’re saying many people don’t want to be excited?

Apparently not.

Even as children?

No. Children want excitement. If you give them brushes, they’ll all paint. And if you don’t criticize them, they’ll keep painting.

And then what would happen?

Their lives would change. They would become more daring and more tolerant.

Why?

Because they have less need to defend. Their territory is imagination. Which has no limits.

Does this work for adults, too?

It works for anyone if they try it.

But some people settle into established patterns.

You have to overcome that urge, which is based on sheer habit and laziness and ideology.

There is ideology in art?

There is ideology everywhere. For example, the premise that you have to build something other people will instantly recognize and accept. If you’re hemmed in by that, you’re a prisoner of reality.

How do you escape?

You find out what you want to build.

Apart from other people…

Yes.

But if no one accepts what you build…

Then you deal with that. It becomes a new problem you try to solve.

How?

Up to you.

Most people don’t want that problem.

I can’t help that. If you want to do something badly enough, you will.

And that’s what art is?

I think so, yes. It’s the thing you really want to do, no matter what.


Exit From the Matrix

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


To read Jon’s articles on Substack, click here.


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.

Leonard Bernstein on Art

by Jon Rappoport

June 23, 2022

(To join our email list, click here.)

Art lies outside the reality machine. It isn’t a product of a system or a system of systems.

“Any great work of art … revives and readapts time and space, and the measure of its success is the extent to which it makes you an inhabitant of that world — the extent to which it invites you in and lets you breathe its strange, special air.” (Leonard Bernstein, 1958)

“…the form of the flower is unknown to the seed.” (Herbert Read, 1965)


Exit From the Matrix

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


To read Jon’s articles on Substack, click here.


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.

Why is Art Such a Problem?

by Jon Rappoport

June 22, 2022

(To join our email list, click here.)

The year was 2066. There were no more show trials condemning traitors. It was over. A haze had settled in. People wanted a respite. They wanted to count their free money and free goods.

Memory, which had been out as a trend, was back in again. People were digging up old possessions, even books and letters.

The Department of Pacification estimated that, worldwide, there were 360 million individuals who resisted attachment to groups of any kind. For the moment, no one cared. Erasing the individual was proving harder than planned.

At Harvard, a professor of fine art found a piece of writing he claimed had been done by a former student, after the war in Asia. He could make no sense of it, but he posted it on the University Machine Press, as a curiosity.

No one responded to it. After all, the art studios on campus were empty. Most students and teachers considered art a form of insanity, and an ancient one at that.

This was the professor’s “find.” Author, unknown:

“I was just looking a wonderful Paul Klee painting on the cover of an old record album of Ravel pieces. Art is such a problem for some people because it doesn’t mirror the ‘the real world.’ The real world is their obsession. They stick to it like gum sticks to a sidewalk. It’s apparently their comfort and their refuge from stray thoughts that might take them out beyond the space of their minds. Beyond the machine of Normal. Art is their nemesis. It threatens their home base. Life has no answer for art. Nature is art, but it doesn’t seem to inspire most people to take a clue and look for other art. No, much better to stay where they are, in a fictional existence. Now, we are getting to the core of the collectivism that has flourished since the dawn of time. Deep in the mind there is a block of steel, a great piece of nothing that weighs a ton. It means nothing and it says nothing. It’s just there. It’s the key reference. Art takes a bludgeon to the block. It shatters it in an instant. It opens all doors and windows. It lets in light, the kind of light, for example, in Van Gogh, which does not occur in nature. Ravel does not occur in nature. Neither does Klee or Matisse or Matta or Degas or Bonnard. What keeps a human being locked up in his collective fantasies? What keeps him from leaving the reality machine in the dust? I’ll give you some kind of answer: he will not stand alone. That’s an answer. He would prefer to think “all of us together” will build a much better world. This will not happen, because a single better world is still a single world, and artists make millions of new worlds. That’s the whole point. That’s what art does. Millions of new and different spaces and worlds. Other than that, what we are left with is the reality machine. It spits out a line of existence in an unending spool. For everyone. By destroying that fictitious and presumptuous “everyone,” we open up the possibility of more artists coming into being. I have written that each one of us is an artist of reality. That’s not quite accurate. Each one of us can choose to be an artist of reality. Or not. The “not” is stale and old and decaying and fixed and robotic. It’s an empty suit, eventually. It has no quality except a certain vague durability. A strange cartoon quality. It’s a front. A ruse. A con. Reality is a con. An old story with the same ending. A tune that never leaves the same key. We are on a planet that promotes a dozen or so basic fairy tales of transcendence. These religious stories are supposed to be the antidote to the reality machine, but they’re merely a different section of the machine. The tales have been sold for a few hundred thousand years, in one form or another. Strain to tell the tales, believe them. From the point of view of the machine, what the artist does is unthinkable. It makes no sense. It’s impossible. Therefore, let’s have more impossibles. Many more. Worlds that could not, but do, exist. And proliferate. And if nothing is ever the same, so much the better. At some point, this will happen. What I’m advocating here will happen. It might take a hundred years, a thousand years, ten thousand years, but the reality machine will entropically disintegrate at a faster clip and burn out. The horse led to the water will drink. The bull will shed his horns and pick up a paint brush. The little sheep will sit down at the piano and play strange songs. The marriage of the mind and machine will crack. The rain itself will sound like a symphony in many keys and registers. Waiting for it, however, is no marvelous badge of honor. Your badges of honor are your paintings. Every single one of them. Your home will accommodate itself to the paintings. It’ll stretch and bend and turn right and left to make room for what the paintings are saying in their unknown language. Even the old masters, as they’re called, went past the familiar. How did people look at Master Rembrandt once upon a time? They couldn’t and wouldn’t believe him. He was an outcast. He wasn’t seen as a realist. Far from it. Now, it’s easy. The subconscious has digested him. He’s all right. He fits. The faces make sense. The same with Velazquez. Goya. A museum is designed as a place that won’t let the paintings take over. That’s the way you build one. Like a fortress with a moat. Like a mind with its own moat. Perhaps it would help to think of art as the launch of an intergalactic voyage. What’s out there? Data have been accumulated, but all in all no one knows, after a certain distance. Who wants to go? Who wants to find out? But of course the comparison breaks down quickly, because the artist invents what hasn’t been there before. It’s more than not knowing. It’s not having done it yet. He is the initiator, the beginning. Is that the problem? A refusal to be “first?” Art was always based on open space. Space that could never be occupied because it was invented. Art was never really a tradition. It was always breaking tradition. Art in the memory is a series of revered golden ages—but each age is actually breaking out of the last one. So none of them were golden at the time, only in retrospect. Giotto was a rebel. Michelangelo was a rebel. Piero was a rebel. Van Eyk was a rebel. Vermeer was a rebel…”

Finally, one day, an anonymous person responded to the post. He wrote: “I agree, because in agreeing I don’t have to enlist in an idea dreamed up by someone else. I don’t have to tune in to someone else’s mind and stay there. Do you know what I mean? I can make my own art.”

Within a month, 400,000 people posted: “I know what you mean.”

Another person wrote: “I know what you mean. And none of us needs to meet each other. Now is not the right time. But there will be a right time. For now, our job is simply inventing millions of new worlds.”


(Episode 12 of Rappoport Podcasts — “Viruses That Don’t Exist” — is now posted on my substack. It’s a blockbuster. To listen, click here. To learn more about This Episode of Rappoport Podcasts, click here.)


Exit From the Matrix

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


To read Jon’s articles on Substack, click here.


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.