Praeludium in via ...

Vidi heri mane quando ridebam coloribus egregiis,
Eradere auro , trans tabula caeli , tentorium ...
Excelsus super omnes montes mundi mole fratres
Nimborum desertum , ubi non sit humana exsuscitatur .
Et non vidi nobili altitudo futura ...
Bonitas terribilis Vidi , *** indomitus.
Et peregrinare in ea carne existimarem Semel tamen divina ,
Nunc datum est scire , et non confundamur ab eo opus .
Ambulavitque *** Deo, quod nunc facio , et passus est ... accentus
Proditio amor et passionibus , quamvis non recipiat ecclesia ,
Divinitatis naturam , ne occulta omnia confitentur ?
Audis tu solus in universo ab duces ineptum
Ipsos victu pascuntur finguntur mendacii .
Sed ambulavit in vobis, ex ea ipsa mundi redivivi ,
Proelia ante hos annos multos, in carne nostra, amissis vate sacro .
Nos sequi vestigia veterum monumentis, ut ostensum est ;
Quia ex nihilo nati sumus , et adhuc in filiis tuis, ac spatium vivendi ,
Latebunt , quo melius in manifesto , vultus ingenio tegmina.
Ego sum primus , et consilium ... Memini tamen alta urantur
Humanis uti licet , *** aliena michi negotium.
Lorem quid ad ignorantiam et extra ,
Quia vidisti me in tenebris, in ardentem rogum meum .
Si sustinuero , praeire , ubi angeli labuntur ...
Quis autem, si non satis est dedicata piget.
Irrisorie , quoniam ego scio quod salventur , et saepe etiam ,
Post tantum est **** , et sic esset forma in re firmatam ?
Imago Dei , huc ad nos omnes in sanguine ipsius ,
A primis ad ultima, ut alpha et omega, gladius acutus .

Prologus : ( Os meum labitur )

Puer fui servus ad aras tam sacras ,
Hymnis immaculatorum : et absque iniquitate .
Quod *** ipse portabat diadema thons nudus ...
Expositum Spiritus meus, qui intellexi gravitatem.
Quis credit sanctum profanae habitu virtutum
Et illi qui in eo sunt ut carnifices ovis ad occisionem ,
Innocentes cogit induere larvis ad porcellana et operuerunt capita sua ,
Et filii eorum diriperent pueritia , vinctus catenis rudis .
Sicut teenager : ambulans in naturis hominum omnium adprobante ,
Et egressus est a me omnes, qui violatores extiterunt in coinquinatione verebatur .
Angelo fidem reperto cecidi inveni sanctitati
Nomen meum in ea , et curet abluitur dubium inveni .
Venit ad nuptias, et omnes dedi uxorem proditione ,
In solutione huius coniunctionis nostrae et sine intervallo in solitudinem imposuit ?
Traiectus mortalis caro mea reliquit me solum in sanguinem ,
Cor ejus scissum est , absque omni cultu ex ordine funem .
Angelus autem meus et leniat iras mansit dolori
Mea lux, in vigiliis, in nigrum, quod est victa ,
Admonens quia carnis mortalitate ... maxime
Angelus vult me et tremor et durum accepimus.
Et ego factus sum quam ... traumas vitae ac lacrimis
Et dimisit , in specie quae sunt post , veluti a me plagas .
Nox deinde calor intensior saunas percipimus ...
Sicut est mihi in choro , relictum est , nisi ab illo esse extensum ,
Et invicem tradent , et mortalem , ut impunita essent, sed numquam mihi ...
Non tradent ; effundam spiritum meum , et non totum .
FYLACTERIUM creare ex omni me , et oculus innocens ...
Quod amari posco sum ​​ut carbo margarita alba et nigra ;

Section I : Sacrificium Doll

Part I : ( litus sanguinem )

Ne revoces me pupa enim priscis recesserunt cavernam
Sunt inanima appetant , non realis forma in utero ;
A puero bibere rubeam ore exploratores in vastissimam taberna ...
Dum nati psallens FARRATUS agros effusi .
Vadimus ad domum Dei , in plagis , in magna pecunia debetis ...
Hoc non est ad oras Nunc cruore manant strigitu rubra de memoria , polluetur .
Nulla est enim me primus ad ignitionem gloriae ...
Quando autem mens aeterna , in omnibus placentes, causabatur laetitiam .
In stellis ibi verba quae ego volo inauditum revocare,
Quia descendi ita pridem apud venire primum ?
Sollicitus purus fabrica MYSTICUS chaos genitus antiquorum
Mitti expectant limine signa magica.
Interdictum revertatur in carminibus meis , Licinius, ut audacia ,
Quia oblitus est mei fere est: nunc originem , ut tragici.
*** filii bibere, et se abscondunt nati seorsum
*** aquæ in sanguinem, et super triticum, et arefecit fœnum, et humida !
Signum quod venturum est mutare et laboro mentem.
Facies in luna ALLUCINOR in metu torquetur , horror ...
Dumque in fauces manu stare super pectus
Inter ordines diu frumentum umbra nigro ambula
Genus servo meo animas infantium .
Aestas flavescunt, Phoebe caelesti audent .
Mea sola mcestas lupus sonitum audiri potest ,
Et *** feris leo in pontumque moueri relinquere ...
A natura mihi dolet cupio concupivit paradisus reducat .
Vidi terram terror , ut sanguis in sinu
Ater sanguis in terra , quae facit viventia ululare ...
Sicut **** habet stultitia non dicam prava vel !

Part II : ( Crucifixo et Inferorum Animas Excitat)

Nam inertis est gemere pupa altari parato, in sacrificium,
In lapidem calcarium, et in cavernam, ubi sunt wettest fingit arcus !
Un - res sunt, sed etiam *** vivit in vulneribus animae , ut in glaciem ,
In horrore frigoris fictilem , ita *** pedibus non vocavit.
Serpentipedi mucrone subrecto , remittit praecise a pupa in collo ,
Et non potest dici , quia non habet pupa voce clamare.
Puer, et egressus est a tabernam , aspectus eorum quasi a naufragii vile ...
Ut curem hominem a superioribus agentibus , corpus totum mundum.
Infra in concavis locorum asperitate visa petram
Magna voces resonare in tenebras , et vocavit nomen tacuit.
Eripuit animam trahit nauta Multo gregis
Ubi aereum reddet unicuique antiquum signum desideratum .
Et venit ad bibendum aquas illas vitae malis mederi ...
Porcellana , et liberatus a vinculis mortis obscuris sentiat frigore ;
Animas in captivitate , unde nemo mortalium loqui
Sed statim liberavit remotis perforabit clavi ...
Omnis **** , qui dicitur Golgotha ​​, olim in cruce positus .
Omnis autem mulier quoque, ad quod omnes tales sunt tormento
Et facta est , dum consummaretur sacrificium insita primum sic infirma est,
Et intantum ut nisl tot annis perpessi .
Signati post fata diu Quod murus ignis in Terra ,
Stigmatibus ferre posset ita etiam multa futura!
Quod signum erat in manu mea, ut labatur pes meus, et dimittam ...
Tamen adhuc vetera perseverare illusionibus , et non possum excitare multos .
Ego, qui iam tantum conligati Lorem ferrum quid reale,
Factaque est infinita in dolo : Ego sum ​​, et desiderio erat pax.
Nam et ego quod negas , nisi aspera ac rudia mei liberatione ;
Angelus liberavit me , et nunc inter saevus sigillum frangere conantur .

Part III : ( The Return of lux)

Qui a mortuis Surrexit , frigidior , ubi de somno , ultrices in somnis , per
Et obliti sunt intelligentiae invocatum est super sancta miserunt innoxia verba ...
Et inde apud hominem , ut maneat MYSTICUS sequuntur revertamur ,
Ea aetate in inferno commemoratione praeteritorum.
Qui suscitavit eis manum meam , et pugionem eius lumen gloriae,
Relicta meae effercio fluere sanguis subito currere libero.
Ex profundo flamma surgit millennial amisso puella puer ,
Quæ est angeli redivivam sinit luce clarius ostendit .
Et omnis qui non occaecat oculos ad intima ;
Infideles , in momento temporis ponere in obprobrium .
*** stellae ab Diua sacrorum opera voluntatis
Dum coccineum limen transeat , lucem adfert .
Momento enim omnes in caelo et in terris sunt ,
Sicut dies longus tandem inclinatus ante noctem veniat .
In tenebris , claritas multo maiorem et perfectiorem descendit ,
Eorum, qui dum in nomine meo orbata est devium.
Sicut incensum in conspectu angelorum ira animos eorum , occlusum ...
Ferrum IRRETUS texturae talis effugere nequeunt carcerem
Nam quicquid occaecat vidit lucem et scindit
Nisi quia in templis revellens mortalibus irae.
Et , postquam ipsæ fuerint fornicatæ infidelium , ut uoles, petulans ,
Et factum est in excogitando dogma , quod de ratione immemor ?
Horrendum non fides sit , tamen ita fecisse ,
Ante finem exspectent praemia petunt .
*** enim , ut est in paradisum suscipit dereliquerunt ...
Imago autem libertatis quam servitutis et negotio.
Nimia tempus extractam converterat a gladio:
****, ut spectet ad salutem in lucem , caeca lumina sua .

Antiphon alpha :
Quia hoc est ut , barbaris quoque innocentiae gentilitium mendacium vendere ...
Numquid et vos vultis emere , aut aliquam nunc forsitan putas,
Ad sciendum neque rationi consentaneum neque aetate sapientes ...
Quod si non moverent malles *** saltare!
Pleni sunt somnia noctes ; Dies mei tantum ...
Ego ad bis et quem maxime diligebam , in purpura quoque , et aprico occasus .
Ego autem haec imago non ad tangere memoriam tot ,
Qui replet in sanguinem furoris me , et frigidam desiderio finis .
Et considerandum est quod *** in ultima desperatione rerum , in cuius manu mea, equo et pilos in ore gladii ,
Nam ni ita esset, nunquam tamen inde trans familia .
Sed abusus est , ut fuit, et quidem instar caedentes sepem
An ut reliquos omnes transcendunt omnia , amice!
Ego superfui , transfiguravi ascendi in fine est ,
Multo magis quam erat, non plus quam diruere animus .
Sed tamen , quia speravi in solitudinem , ut a somno exsuscitem ancillam meam in flamma ...
Ardet , o superi, ut arbitror , usque uror dissiliunt!
De caelo et magis obscurant vestris, et tridentes, et contritio ,
Audio furorem tympana caelo antiqui gigantes hiemes.
Dii irascantur et ecce valide erutas ,
Uvasque calcantes Angeli hominis Illi autem vinariis ageretur ...
Recordatus sum in omnibus navigantibus battleship galaxies ,
In die ortus nubes inter exaestuans, quod ' vaporem ...
Depopulari Sodomam et Gomorrham, ad contumelias !
Ibi eram: et *** impiis non perire denique gemitu.
Ut illuderet mihi : et populus , quia ego bonus sum male velle ,
A Deo est, quam diu tot mala ferre cogetur .
Ego autem non sum solus , quia multa in eo et detorqueri
Deus remittit, nam adhuc sed non est intellectus ;

Section II : Hostiam de Spider

Part I : ( Rident Primus )

Caelum non egerunt pœnitentiam super ulcus nigrum est furore , et in indignatione, et in iustitia :
Et factus sum caro , quamvis intellectus non mortale .
In antro loca , quæ transivi , et dæmonia multa discurrunt ,
Et locis minus adhuc amor in search of a provocare .
In quo autem in craticiis tectoria atria mea, et thronus fuit stabilis ...
Et super collem , ubi dolorum laborum animae perit labor in mundanis ,
Transcendi vincula et consilio fidelium expectabo laudatur.
Ignis et sulphur et, semper est dextera arderent super altare ?
Ridentem cogo faciem meam : non enim veni , ut velle,
Ut in hora *** iam iuvenem, *** proposito aureum ...
Quæ pro impenso super solidum, pretium quis ,
Qui autem non cognovit , quomodo cupiam sibi solvere ...
Furor solitudinis nascitur ira nascitur ex malitia,
Qui autem contemnunt me , quia sine causa Provocantes me .
Quid est **** , impunitatem , ne quis putaret se excusat ;
Quam sapere , *** culturis tuum: mergi , in balneis , in ardentem .
Loquor de inferno, qui est infidelis nescis ?
Neque enim suis oculis effossis clavorum ...
Loquor cruciatus qui daemonia fecerunt superat .
Primus erit mihi dolor meus *** omnis fera voluntas ut ratio ...
Ut qui me conspui caro quod ambulans ,
Nescis modo larva facies mea , abscondens se.
Attendit ad illa nihil nisi insipientis solis erratur in sonis cantus
Tantum numerus ratus e fratre soror .
Sed in caelestibus quae sine causa nata est incestus est alchemical ?
Habitat in me peccatum occultum compages sǽculo.
Sit mihi vim inter gentes auditus est ABSURDUS musica ...
Spiritus meus qui regit omne simile est genitus.

Part II ( vindicta aurum )

In hortos, in quibus cupiditas sanguis rosaria semina ,
I , in manu eorum , qui esurit Quorum sitit aquam surgit !
In quaerere dilectionis affectum bestiis pavi eget
Quid faciam ut pudeat , habet me non elit .
O **** , quo impune ausu palamque vociferari ,
Quod amor sit ex me credis , et me opus manuum tuarum ,
Ut timidus , et cucurrit ad me latere turba depravari ,
In simulata excellentiam tuam , et ipse te vile animal .
Coniunctio oris linguae quasi telam laqueari
Si fieri potest araneae ; et fugiet a turpis ut octo pedes nidum ...
Et *** jam non calidus humanitatis indignum ,
Cogitans te meliorem quam reliqui descendes !
Ut vitae pretium millies , tibimetipsi .
Creaturam factus sum nocte expectant te aranea heu !
Nolite putare quia ego audirem . utrumque stridens cruris ...
Odium ductor tuus , et equi ejus , et ascensorem ejus .
Et in vestra web Video vos, Quirites immune ungues acuti ,
Ad toxicus venenum , quod oculis non potes, nisi te , octo ...
Ex quo bases Caesios sine timore, et sic primum
Ut dolores tuos comedat vos accendentes ignem caelum ;
Detur paenitentiae venia , quae dicis omnia cogit , ne superare dolores ,
Qui tibi semper, quæ videtur , non est potentia ad non noceat .
Et ascendit ulterius sapere plus pavoris tui ...
Numquam puerile ludibrium ulla facta .
Omnis domus tua dissolutae horologiorum ad socium non est ?
In desertis chaos est gaudium, ut si quod habuerunt.
Surgit in novum ordinem , nemo potest negare chaos genitus locus ,
Dum descendes perdunt, muneribus laesae.

PARS III ( Ultimo Rident)

Et sic videtur quod Angelus se et ante deam
Angelus autem nominis vocare aliquis tenuerit formarum.
Et qui in illis est , maiora sunt, ego saepe ad extraneas ,
Fingunt enim se perfectum , ignorant eorum saevitum ,
Num amor crustacea tam veteri quam in praedam , et mendicum ,
Quod minus quam tuum est , quam sumpsi eaque cibum ...
Est autem tarn coquina sicut clibanus tua vadit et ora
Ipse, ipse est extra te praemium virtutis tuae chores ,
Sicut enim res suo cuidam negotium , qui meretricem ... Lorem ipsum leve,
Putas praemium amaret , et mendicum , falli te .
Quid autem vocatis me alienum **** ... amor est malum , et hoc pudet,
Et similiter anima atque animus , quibus tandem corpus infirmare.
Vides tantum larva ... sub aspectu nisurum
Larva ut me in tenebris tenebris latet .
Circa collum tuum habebis , ut falsae aestimationis pendet a mortuis, et corona ,
Quia sterilis tibi relinquo mundum , Intenta ancillæ.
Consurgitur in excitate de reliquis abire tibi , qui sunt cognati mei
De manibus eorum procul offendant pedes vestri ?
Qui manet in coemeterio quasi mortui
Non tollere incorruptione Nimis tibi dubium .
Hue tacito lachrymis virgines flere ...
Ad mea, et robur , in quo praeda, gregibus rursum super vias hominum ,
Ad eos qui non ineptis metus mutetur ,
Aureus transmutare non magis quam plumbea nocte dies ;
Quod verum est de fine , qui scit ... Alchemist
Magistra rerum artes a me in profundum.
Ágite , quod sum aggressus creatura placet mutare ...
Ut res sunt nostrae demiurgorum lasciva oscula enim calidius ?

Omega Antiphon :
Non est autem in Utopia , non videtur quod ...
Donec ut nosmet ipsos cognoscimus prima quaerimus imaginem .
*** et in sacrificio sui ipsius , a volunt reddi obsequium ...
Qui ad reformandam et divina se , *** Leo renata agnus mitis !
Sicut in Christo, ex parte in qua invocatum est cicatrix, et vulneratus est ...
Sed simplex conversio ad dissimilis vultus nolui .
Memini dolore meo, ut acer et vehemens ...
Donee tantum possum emissus dolor servare sensu caret.
Quomodo potest aedificare paradisum non est, nisi in se mutant ;
Mutare ante mutatum esse non est in medio ; quae est in via .
Qua ad paradisum , et oportet eam, et non deficiunt,
Ne ad caelum, nisi quam nos aedificare illud infernum iniustitiis nos .
Utopia , non ruunt ad genus humanum, nisi a te, tu es qui habitavit ?
Nisi quod est extra omne malum quod in se corrumpunt ,
Manifestum enim est , nisi malum, quod mundatam ab omnibus malis moribus.
Tunc malitia faciatis abstulit senex super pluteo tom .
An non intellegat , quid est salvator ...
*** diceret quod non omne quod simplices filii ingredi
Regnum caelorum , et inde ad delectationem pertinere ...
Et quomodo potes perfrui , si tibi placet , cauillando crudelis ?
*** aurora tempore domini nituntur hominum planeta ...
Numquam imaginandi praecipiet ut discat primum voluntatis.
Non armorum vi , nec inutile mandatum ...
Sed *** modestia , et misericordia ; ergo qui ad cor suum in satietatem,
Gáudii innumerabiles et celebrationibus quae causa ?
Sed animus intendatur dolores peccatum lacus.
Ubi plausus rotundum vt quilibet sensus ?
Modernitatem iocabitur ullum definitum ornare.

Section III : sacrificium sui

Part I : ( hortos perditio )

A ziggurat sublatus est , arenosa in calidum lateres , quos coquetis in igne ...
Septem fabulae in caelum, sicut turris Babel ,
Quod in solitudinem, et in

Everyday caught
In the labyrinth of mind,
I am,
Where dreams,
And desires
And lust,
From nothing
Conspire something.

Destination: Canada Water.
The next station is Surrey Quays.
Doors will open on the right-hand side.
Exit here for Goldsmith's College.

In the cerebellum
Fragments flash cerebrum bright:
Wheels in tunnels burn,
A neural screech amplified deep,
As waves of electrons churn,
And in multiple places keep.

This stop:
- My birth -
Is in Westminster!

It’s time:

Do you love me?
DO YOU LOVE ME?
          Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

In the space-time continuum,
The labyrinth is forever,
Within a fourth dimension.

It’s time …

You love me, right?
YOU LOVE ME, RIGHT?
    Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

DO-MI-NA-TION
DEATH FREE
DO-MI-NA-TION
ASH FREE

Lost in the labyrinth: a journey to an exit.
The Overground train pulls!
And from floor to ceiling,
Between vertical orange pins,
A medley of languid listless limbs lulls,
       Seated hips,
       Angled legs,
       Dangling feet,
And neck-less heads,
Lost, ghoul-like,
The disconcerted move doggedly on,
Everywhere somewhere; but forever nowhere
Through London's hills and bogs.

From  STOP to STOP,
In the labyrinthine network,
In tubes splayed out on cubes,
Of bright brushed viscose comfort,
Overhead, the ads exhort:

       Top Up Your Soul,
       Fast Forward Your Escape
And
       uSwipe
       uSwitch
       uSave

Like these,
A hundred escalating messages,
Each more insistent than the last,
Compel, enough to distract,
So man’s desire enslaves his heart.

Its time…

         You love, right?
YOU LOVE, RIGHT?
    Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

DO-MI-NA-TION
DEATH FREE
DO-MI-NA-TION
ASH FREE

How? Why?
Has bacterial sludge,
Built these edifices of glass and steel.
This labyrinthian cage,
Whose walls race up at the speed of light,
While the inner commuter flame gutters,
Everywher, in multiverses,
Supernovas explode in showers.
And for a moment, in the moment, The Overground chromatic glows.

New Cross Gate, Canada Water, Southwark.

Lit and digital and LCD:
        
  ALL CHANGE, PLEASE.
  THIS TRAIN TERMINATES HERE

A few automated steps, and:
       Southwark,
       Green Park,
       Then Baker Street,
Appear, fade and disappear.

Now walking down Belsize Road,
On the evening of the
Super Gibbous Moon,
As it rises high over the Ziggurat dimensions of the Alexandra Estate,
And all is blood orange at dusk,
As I, a slinking silhouette,
Make for the event horizon of home,
For surely given, and taken,
A few more bends, another turn,

It’s time, again.

         Love, right?
         LOVE, RIGHT?
    Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

DO-MI-NA-TION
DEATH FREE
DO-MI-NA-TION
FREE ME.

To the event horizon of consciousness,
To that black hole at the core.
In death's star-like eye,
Embrace, pass through,
(Fear not),
On, through the labyrinth northward,
Entering and exiting,
We go awhile, a little longer.

Stars, my Stars,
Again, it's time.

You love me, right?
YOU LOVE ME, RIGHT?
Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL
SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL
DEATH FREE.
LOVE!
BE,
WINGS FREE:

     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL

One more stop:

       New Bond Street.

GET BEYOND
DESIRE,
BEYOND THE LABYRINTHEAN LIE,
CONSUMER, DIE!
BE
MATERIAL FREE.

Last stop:

       No-name, this one:

BE:

     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL.

SAY IT:

     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL
     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL
     DEATH FREE.
     LOVE!
     BE,
     WINGS FREE:
    
     WE ARE:
     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL

Beneath the city we speak many languages,
none fluently:
in our solitude we cannot hear
how foreign words were meant to sound.
Liesl calls my window a "mercy."
To me it is a threat
or a tease,
a glimpse of the impossible
like ******.

Yes I have tiny hands,
tiny thoughts, hopes, dreams
beneath the city that is closed to me:
useless treasure,
an unreadable book in a foreign tongue
full of printers errors
and, like this poem,
a wrestling match with words.

We tried to speak,
we sat and watched each other,
shared mornings and nights.
But still we came here,
up these crooked stairs
alone and so small, behind warped glass
an oddity, a curiosity in a freak show.
And what is curiosity
but another way to cut myself
without leaving scars?

I was having a cigarette
On top of a ziggurat
When I asked the Sphinx
To say what he thinks.
He said I’d know what he did
If I were in the pyramid.
But instead I had got
Myself on a ziggurat
So, he couldn’t say what
He truly thought he thought.

Then the Sphinx said to me
There will be lots of mystery
And I am certainly not joking
But you must give up smoking.
Because an important answer
Is that ziggurats cause cancer.

I don’t believe that is so.
I feel I must let you know
That there isn’t a chance
I mean, look how you dance
With your body all flat
In those tall pointy hats
Your elbows look broken
So, I know you are joking
And making an ancient pun,
You are just having fun
With a modern American.
I will do whatever I can
To try to catch the basic gist
Of whatever I have missed.

Then uttered the Sphinx
You logic is missing some links.
I’m older than the pyramids
And you are all just kids.
Now you know what the Sphinx thinks.

If I could subjugate the seasons, and bend them full,
Unto my will, then I would make them playthings…
Like pretty maids, all in a row; and all I hate I’d cull.
Of old, I held esteem higher than bards and kings…
When the sickles fell in the corn, as the fire did roar,
The wicker man died, to the druids’ mystical chants.
I was there and in my honor the maidens sang more,
As the blood of the wicked watered growing plants!
My symbol was the ram, the horned beast of Hades,
And I am the wolf that runs wild, amongst the flocks.
My holy temple lies in the realm of the palest shades,
Cast low, yet rising ever higher from infernal rocks…
From such places have I climbed seeking my justice!
Elfin queens have donned the black courtesan gown,
And danced before my throne as many a mistress…
Their grace enhanced, by silvery slippers and crown.
I was the serpent Saint Patrick cast from out of Eire!
The children of Dana spoke of me only in whisper…
Whilst their mother kept tended, for me, a secret fire.
Only she could touch it without one burn or blister…
But her traditions are now the stuff of forgotten myth.
The gods have laid me low, seeking to humble pious,
A spirit wilder than the forest when cloaked in mists!
Though I bow to no tyranny; as a god, I was jealous.
As a man I am lonely and angry at the evils I behold,
Hungry for love and thirsty for what peace I can find.
In the name of desire, I rage until Hell’s fire is cold…
Look beyond my flesh, and do not in hubris be blind.
Know me by my words and know my love is honest,
I offer up my darkness with my light to here confess!

Descent I: The Spire of the Eye

(No heresy of Babylon, was ever so honest…
As that which captured my soul, in conquest.)

To love me, you must take my hand and so enter…
The hidden places, where not just good is centered,
But also evil the like of which you knew not I kept.
If you can understand, sweet dreams blissfully slept,
Then mayhap you can bear the nightmares’ sting…
And when all is so done, more of love we shall sing!
I am the darkness, the eye watching from the spire,
The one you deny, the embodiment of your desires.
I am the shadow, the faces in your mirror’s pane…
The one you fear, as you enter a nightmare domain!
Welcome to my paradise, let me offer you an apple,
As I send you to the Abyss on a steed lithely supple.
Behold the gardens where my kin wait to be free…
The roses there grow reddest, all from infernal seed.
I can lead you beyond the fire, if you take my hand,
For you are but a stranger, in my own strange land!
Behold the desolation, caused by the sins of man…
Would I punish humanity for it, if not for divine ban?
Nay, I am not God nor could I ever be one so aloof.
When I see the innocents who perish in disasters…
I weep for the children the most and I ask for proof,
That God cares for any soul, either here or hereafter.
Do you say wickedness lives, in the hearts of some?
I see it even on high, and wish it could be overcome.
But then somebody hurts me and I cannot forgive…
And in that hour I know why God can be full of fury.
Some pains are too much, to endure and saintly live,
I too was a child, and not a one wept for my worry!
Is my pity a service, to those who cannot be saved?
The answer is in no scripture, or on altars engraved.

Let me look into your eyes so that I might wonder,
Whilst you gaze into my own to behold the thunder!
Let us shake the heavens, until they are darkened…
Whilst those that slumber, below, violently awaken!

Descent II: The Feast of the Fallen

(No heresy of Atlantis, was ever quite blest…
As that which, here, has been shown interest.)

Behold the table I have set out for one great feast…
The wraith-maids come to dance in gowns creased,
By night-threads woven by the spiders of the pits…
As screams of the ******, provide a song most fit!
You ask, why God would create a domain like this,
A twisted realm of mad passions: and madder bliss?
It was the creation of the darkest dreams of angels,
And gods fallen, who found a home within the hells.
Where the elfin kin were remade into a dark image,
In a time lost to all history, unrecorded by any sage.
When love is denied me, I am a prisoner of the ice,
Which sweeps across my heart by sorrow’s device.
Fire and ice lie before you, within my soul reflected,
The origin of this nightmare you dream unprotected!
Do you feel the chill that I kept from all who’d pry?
Now you know how awful is loneliness, and why…
To bear it any longer would be verily to lose myself.
Far better is companionship, for the spiritual health!
Oh the irony of the ignorant who called me maker…
Knowing not, the blasphemy to which they commit!
Woe unto the repast prepared for them by a baker,
Who serves them the poisons to which they submit!
Only love can provide release that passion can seal.
Awaken me from my nightmare, with a love so real!
Black webs stretch across gulfs where vultures soar,
And I know how terrible goodness can be, unveiled.
For there is a terrible righteousness at Hell’s door…
Hotter than the sun over the waves man once sailed!
More terror lies in light too bright for eyes to handle,
Than the dimly flickering fires of one lit black candle.

What reflects in a mirror, naught but flesh opposed,
Is less real than midnight’s embrace, hotly imposed!
What you see in my face, only a tiny facet of a form,
Is something primal and untamed as a raging storm!

Descent III: The Light of the Dawn

(No heresy of Gnosis, which many did contest,
Was ever so revealing as what I’ve addressed.)

In a ziggurat in the center of an Eden grown so wild,
Sits enthroned, the dawn star in the form of a child…
Her power undaunted, despite her unassuming form!
For the heart is the domain, of the angel of the morn.
She is the light in the darkness that I have described,
Her soul is the flame, from which sinners would hide.
Would you sacrifice your wickedness unto her now?
Only light can forgive darkness, by grace endowed!
The banner of a ****** cross on white, unashamed,
Flies from that temple I share, with she I just named.
How many died beneath it, in the days of the sword?
What lies were men told, that evil was God’s word!
Armor is heavy, when the cause of arms is not just…
It shines less brightly, when bloodshed makes it rust.
You were not there when I knelt and wept, faithless,
Abandoning God, and lusting for a kinder mistress…
But if you would love me, you must know its’ cause!
For love I ****** myself, and did so without pause.
Through Sophia, and the child angel, God illustrated,
Unto me, the depth of the mercy I doubted did exist.
Oh Sophia, first mother of mine, how oft I hesitated,
Blind to the grace that, within us all, does so persist!
Just as in grief Athena gave herself unto tragic death,
I gave myself unto the night, for I had not a thing left.
There are sights that cannot be unseen by inner mind,
And there are sensations that cannot be taken away!
Tear away the outer garment and there you can find,
All that man is truly clad in, hidden from light of day!
To the left hand is the path: to the right hand of glory,
It is the winding way I took, throughout my life story.

Let me show you the glories of the hour of witching,
When a single tear can break one’s spirit, twitching!
Let me take you to the ball where the undead dance,
Where the dire ravens gather and the satyrs prance!

Descent IV: The Madness of Love

(No heresy of Cain, which was silenced to rest,
Was ever so damning as what I just confessed.)

For love, a brother’s very blood would I so give up.
I would heat it like a tea and pour it in a golden cup!
For love, my very flesh would I scourge, and scar…
I would offer my pain to every god to bottle in a jar!
For love, all of the earth would I conquer: lay waste.
I would build it anew, all its’ fresher delights to taste!
All of these wicked deeds would I do for one I love,
But I would never forsake her, not for angels above!
We have all had the frightful thoughts rise, unbidden,
Of which these are but a sample, of what lies hidden.
Am I good because I did not commit such mad acts?
No, for the thoughts were still mine, sharp as an axe!
To know there is evil within us is wisdom of a sort…
It means good is within to define it, granting comfort.
Once was I a god, but fell because of the inner dark,
Growing jealous and wanton, until I would not hark!
Love redeemed me before, and it can do so again…
If you love me you can, with a kiss, my torment end.
I am not a beast for awaiting beauty’s loving bounty,
Though all who live have within them a true monster.
People misunderstand much, and oft speak contrary,
Seeing not the raven until it flies up under their rafter.
Be a goddess in mortal flesh, and share my throne…
So life can be a dream, beyond mere flesh and bone.
Perhaps one must sin to know salvation’s soft touch,
Making the blessed into hedonists hungry for feeling.
I have known ambrosial delights far beyond all such,
Not by denial but by an embrace that left me reeling!
It is man, who first called me the Prince of Darkness,
Even though, of old, no such title did I once possess.

What sacrifices, as are offered: to redeem the fallen,
Cannot bring them salvation as a flower gives pollen!
What boon you grant, must be for only we to enjoy,
Cannily breaching my soul like the gates of old Troy!

Descent V: The Paradise of Perdition

(No heresy of Lucifer, with a rebellious zest…
Could shine so brightly, from east unto west.)

Trapped in memories, and tormented by my visions,
I’ll struggle ever onward making the only decisions…
Which ever my destiny allowed me freedom to bear.
If you are lost in my nightmare you had best beware!
No one can save you if you hold not love most dear,
And cannot endure darkness to conquer your fear…
For terrible is the beauty of the paradise of perdition.
But I would rather be bound there, than by tradition!
There is freedom in darkness and light there aplenty,
Not tainted by those who sold their faith, for money.
If fallen I am, at least in one way I am still redeemed:
Ever was I honest, and by me no one was deceived.
My sins have been great, and I reveled in them all…
This is where they dwell, amidst the flowers ever tall.
You have seen the surface of my darkness laid bare,
Walking in the wastelands where few would so dare.
If you love me, we can make the desolations bloom,
Build a heaven in our hell and let light replace gloom!
Joy is hedonistic, but modern man dulls it insensibly.
So why not partake, of what others fear to indulge?
The fruit that I offer you is born of true irresistibility.
The twilight of the gods begins not without a tumult!
Tell me if you be, such an adventurous and fair maid.
As Persephone was to Hades, be unto me: unafraid!
Let me touch you softly, and show you carnal virtue,
So that all the things they taught you were wicked…
Are revealed as pleasures, when passion pays a due.
Let us live and love with zest, on finer ambrosia fed!
The flames that scorch others, will be for us sensual,
In Hell is that paradise granted to the true individual.

Let me be swept away, by tides of passion carried,
Where any wish might be granted but never harried!
Let us do as we will, and that shall be our only law,
When the Abyss comes for us, we dive in its’ maw!

Ave Eous! Amor Aeternus. Gloria Paradiso Inferni!
Amorem et Lucem! Ignus Aeturnus. Ave Luci via!

Gitano yawned,
stretching out under
the shrine of Öli.

Here he plotted
and hid a mouthful
of secrets; and the Lord
watched over him
as he slept.

He plotted,
for coyote wisdom
is disguised by folly
and cunning
and guile.

All about, the vermilion
stain of Mars. The coyote
chuckled mischievously,
dreaming at the feet
of the Master and Judge.

Above,
a ziggurat raised
to the Goddess.

Two great black eagles
circled in a sky
of dry roses and lilacs.

La Santisima Muerte
stood at a distance,
yet bore Gitano
in Her *****.

His mischiefs were scribed
upon a cartouche
to amuse gods
and teach men;

Yet men are not
so easily taught
as gods are amused;

For men have not yet
learned to believe
what makes them laugh.

And so Gitano sleeps,
and talks while he sleeps;
wherefore the Ways
of mischief and trickery
were laid bare.

The secret is to teach
at the expense
of innocence.

Certain illusions persist;
they must be shattered,
but their thrall
can only be broken
by design.

Whether bitterness
takes root in the wake
of the shattering
is not Gitano's concern.

Because sometimes
realization can only come
through being made a fool,
revealed to ourselves
as absurd.

Angry at our own foolishness,
we blame the one
who denudes it.
The coyote, too, is a Fool.

A Fool can learn,
shaping destiny
by taking responsibility.
Through death a Fool
becomes wise,
seeing the joke.

The burden of karma
is left to those
who cannot laugh.

Man grits his teeth,
his brow furrowed.
He despairs.

Gitano chuckles,
unperturbed.

Having finally climbed the ziggurat
Known as Bank of America
Customer’s-Non-Service
I was able to order checks.

Not the ones I wanted - oh no -
Somehow ‘they’ wouldn’t let me.
‘They’ being a recorded voice
That said I’m allowed four digits.

But my checks always need five
You cannot order those online -
You somehow have to phone it in.
So, resigned to this, I called.

After clicking one through five
Another robot lady’s voice
Then told me I can order those
By only going back on line.

I tried this several different ways.
It always ended up the same.
No matter which I tried they told me
I had to use the other way.

At painful length I gave it up
And ordered checks with just four numbers,
Starting at quadruple seven
So I can tell them from the rest.

Yesterday my order came
I opened it and felt despair
The checks were not the size I’m used to
And useless to me in my work.

2
Back to the phone’s robotic voice
To stumble on a lucky click
And get Patricia on the line -
A person who could help me out.

Telling her my tale of sorrow,
She promised to replace the checks
With ones in the requested size.
Then as a bonus offered me

Checks that count up in five digits,
Starting where my last ones stopped.
Oh Hosannah in the Highest -
Patricia’s now my Patron Saint.

Banking is a trial by fire
Though they shout convenient
All they’ve done is make it harder
With the loss of human contact.
ljm

The queen of winter comes.
An expressionless assassin
who feels no passion, she comes
as silently as the shadow of a cloud.

She may come crowned by aurora borealis,
or in ziggurat-like steps of paralysis,
but the song she sings freezes earthly things
and her chilly breath brings a sleepy death.
The queen of winter comes.

A deadly kiss from those frozen lips
can shatter skin like glass.
May howling hounds warn you
and blazing fires warm you.
The queen of winter comes.

Modern man unpacks his woes
He'd have us call it progress
The way back to our cave is paved

Several million ante-deluvians
drowned under the same delusion
How high do you need the ziggurat?
Asks ****** at Babel

Time wasn't ripe back then for God
He disabled their default accord;
their demon intent to destroy His plan

Three thousand years it's taken to regroup
Time enough for His time to be right
For the time of the end of the curse

So please, can the clever caveman thoughts
next time you imagine shuttles in space
a reflection of how superior we are

He'd downgrade us again in a flash
if it wasn't just about the time
we get to blow ourselves up anyway

Wiseup weasels, remember the reason
our playpen was restored in seven days
from Lucifer's null and void revenge

We have seven milenniums to learn to love
To take up our parts in Father's plan
or blow away like the wind

Six of them are practically over
Six billion souls in six thousand years
Created on day six, the number of man
We're at point six point six point break

Day seven's about to dawn.
The number of perfection and rest
Tormented earth groans anticipation

Mushroom clouds and lawlessness
pose no threat to YaHWeH's timeline
Null and void is on His Just In Time list

Every eye will see Meshiach come
Every knee will bow for
The Ancient of Days

It’s getting to be that
I gotta get ****** just to go
Super market shopping these days.
Medication de rigueur,
Just to brave the dazed & demolished
Faces of forlorn fiends,
Those 400 SAT score & scoured souls
Stuck all this time in the
Lower middle classes.
Down for the count,
A toothpaste tube-squeezing cohort,
Squishing out the last dollop
Of Colgate Optic White
From their menial, un-redemptive misery;
Caught on a crumbling ledge,
Soon to fall even lower--
Darwin’s social Ziggurat
Still happily-ever-crazy,
After-all-these-years.
Meanwhile, the rich,
The few, that lucky few,
Get ever more clever, ever more rich,
Devising sinister tricks & subterfuges,
To wit: exterminate inflation
While simultaneously jacking prices,
Higher prices weekly.
Double-digit inflation:
The Obama Administration’s
Best kept Official Secret.
Meanwhile the poor know better,
Grow more bitter each day.
It's not even subtle anymore.
Everything costs more.
Everything is expensive
When you have no money to buy.
Roaming the grocery aisles,
Predator packs,
Reminiscing the good old days,
When a job seemed a birthright,
Apple pie:  no longer as American as . . .
Dazed and ragged like Zombies,
They roam the cornucopia,
Carnal grins on ravenous lips,
“Clean-up on Aisle 5,”
Screams the cashier.

Love not the empress curve of your cheek,
The many-storied, empty ziggurat of belief,
The man-handled, baked brick built so high,
Your grotty thighs are pasted with all your lovers,
Your lacquered heart is glazed by luminous grief,
Head-bearer of broken vases as your crown,
Filled with dry dust from liquid stars.

Concept:
youlovemeback.

The ingredients of cleanse
make their way
to your house.

There is

a

strobe,
two stones portioned off
a Ziggurat,
a present thing —
like wheels,
a teardrop,
nail clippings.

My father
would trim his nails
and bury them —
as seeds.

Stared
at that ***
all days and evenings.
Monsoons and
summer heat echoed.
Time circled back and forth.

Sometimes,

I would gargle
father’s beer and
spit into the ***.
Maybe it needed
Acrid, it needed
Strong. It needed
Disgusting,
Toxic. It wanted

wrong.

I turn 22.
The ***
Disappears. My father
too. Militants
took him away,
or so the chatter goes.
He wore Chinos, sun-dried
eyes, a hat.
Mice ate
the matchsticks
used for kindling.
The Queen Termite
Gave birth to more
hungry little ones
under the sink.
Dark, musty,
collapsing.
Memory, time,
fingertips. Thyme
rhymes

with mime,

I copy my father.
Trims nails.
Plants.
Waters.

Concept:
trytounderstand

This was only the nourish
he could give. It was
a copy of the nourish
his father could give —
Or so

The chatter goes.

Gather the stones.
Get the strobe.
Pound the nail clippings
and

an enzyme flows
Through, like tape recorders whirring
as they wind back to
play recorded confessions
one more time.

Free baptismals
at the church service
for hurried teens.
Free shirts for
the Insufficient.
Free lessons for
the young boy
who can’t read women.

Free at long, long last.

Concept:
fixtheheart

At Etemenanki, the bell has rung
Echoing into the dark desert night
Apostates speaking the Adamic tongue

Though the sky is old, the earth is still young
And the world is still full of love and light
At Etemenanki, the bell has rung

Free the prisoners who have not yet hung
For even the ****** could never indict
Apostates speaking the Adamic tongue

Every voice cries out, every song is sung
While the jealous one looks on at this slight
At Etemenanki, the bell has rung

And from the ziggurat, his hand has flung
(As they all protest and declaim his might)
Apostates speaking the Adamic tongue

The crowd babbles and speaks and shouts among
Themselves, but none meet with any insight
At Etemenanki, the bell has rung
Apostates speaking the Adamic tongue

Shimmy on an Amen break
belle époque, rockstar
belly dancer.
Hitched up skirt to
crotch-ripped nets , choke
ziggurat louboutins.
A Stratocaster, glitter Sheba
on Hiroshima shadows pouring
snake-hipped ribald, scriptures
from the swelling of her breast

Kneeling, nylon bound and penitent
in a simony of rapture bought
to wet the rubber stamping of
your  cattle-battered soles
Low boneyard serotonin glows a
candle wax communion as your
henna painted carry rose
the rivers of my veins.
Your Aramaic shoe-shine boy
*** *****-slapped drug Messiah
  So Dear Mary, it is over you
that I must prophesy.
As you feed the pigs of my disgrace that
fill your head with meat and seed
I'll sup that broken bottle heat that
percolates between your open thighs....



I will be there in the morning a
renaissance scent of cannabis about
your mirrored ceiling....

Jesus wept,
Sweet Magdalen
The thought of you will
gather storms within me

And immediately there fell from his eyes as it had been scales:
     and he received sight forthwith...      [Acts 9:18]

When judges decipher what lawyers speak,
offended defendants may leave confused.
Legalese labyrinths capture the weak;
Babylon's law makes for justice refused.
Enshrined at the ziggurat's doubtful peak
tyrannic gibberish mocks the accused.
He blinks at the courtroom, bewildered freak
as sentences are uttered unrecused.
Cuneiform marks... codified patter—
who dares define such esoteric terms;
in Heaven's eyes does it even matter ?
While the sacrificial defendant squirms,
Justice, unblinded, lifts higher the sword
unscaled eyes beholding—her gaze restored.

Tryouts starring musical prodigies 
and/or an attendant conductor
attempt to approach ambient chorus
divinely exhibited from Gaia's handiwork
heavenly invoking kapellmeister's
magnificent nonchalant outlook
piquantly, quintessentially, repertoire sensately striking
unmatched vast wisdom yielding, zephyr air albeit creativity
engineered from groundswell harmony
juxtaposed, kindled, linkedin,
manifesting noteworthy opulent philharmonic recording
transcribing universal veritable webbed wide world.

Wunderkinds yield Ziggurat acme approximated asymptote
bequeathing celestial Doppelganger Earthly emulations
formulating fractal glinting highlighting
ineffable joie de vivre jostling, keen kindling,
la la land legerdemain lifting logic
lording Ludwig (Josef Johann) Wittgenstein.


Yelping zoological apostle Al affidavit Gore handily
heaping hubristically invocation jolting kickstart measures
nipping nixed noblesse oblige opera 
quickening quotidian rapid ruination sans supreme
teetering upended venerated wise with acumen
arithmetical Benoit Mandelbrot
chasing far-fetched ideas 
lightyears menacing nihilism purging ogres opportunistically  
resplendently ripping revered tankard tipping unstoppably
vanquishing varietal whipsawing wonderfully
wrapt yawning  youngsters
warfare written wrought
yanking zestfully crushing environmental family
granting Herculean instant karma
malevolent, opprobrious pronouncement
quiet riot silencing severely tragic ubiquitous vicious wreckage
yikyaks apemen cleft Earth.

***************

Future foragers denounce capitalistic bamboozlers aggression
zealots wrought trashing quintessential naked kingdoms issue
flotsam coagulates zonal wastelands torquing quality NON
killing habitats Earth bleached yellowed voodoo ruins.

~
Dishevelled he stood, unable to speak,
from years of abuse in youthful upkeep
the years of admonishment had taken their toll
reduced to obsequious, lugubrious soul

the once-happy boy, unable to opine,
or quip in humour, save garble and whine,
decades would pass before he'd undo
and jettison the harm taken years to accrue

now he stood dumb, bewildered and slow,
top ziggurat of abuse, debilitating blow,
still, gentle flower, a gem unscratched,
as new-borne babe, chick freshly hatched

unprimed, unready, for onslaught of world,
the cruel schadenfreude, the evil unfurled,
the juggernaut of malevolence, of intemperate hurt
that would crush gentle flower, dissolve into dirt.

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                 The Mystery of the Lunar Month

The reality of the lunar month
A tiny bat jerking and jinking through the dusk
In pursuit of its evening mosquitoes
Beneath a far-up vapor trail

The mystery of the lunar month
Calculated by wise ones in the long ago
With night far gentler than the solar heat
And minds more subtle than the glare of day

Each a mathematical autocrat
(Smoking an after-dinner ziggurat?)

An excerpt taken from a lengthy tome,
written courtesy a favorite poet of mine.

Paraskevidekatriaphobia  struck within a blink,
I swear yours truly never took a drink,
nevertheless he witnessed
and falsely accused of being a rat fink,
when everything but the kitchen sink
instantaneously disappeared in a wink.

A quick moving flava flav lava flow
quickly rapped (like a snoop doggy dog tune),
swept, and twittered predominantly
(this only the beginning phase
of Armageddon clobbering debacle),
where nature nymphs, sprites, trolls, et cetera)
decked out with tartan kilted
Scottish residents comprising
the moral majority population
within bucolic community of Harrisburg,
(yes the same place name and Das Capital
of Pennsylvania) before swallowing
(as an itty bitty, teensy weensy
hors d oeuvre), a healthy
barley noticed portion of planet Earth.

Faster than a speeding bullet
lubricated with greased lightning,
and one rather extremely uncommon phenomena,
the devastating, instantaneous,
and outrageous volcanic activity,
(that forged the Allegheny Mountains)
unexpectedly goose-stepped,
doggedly catapulted back to life
after a bajillion years of dormancy
entombing, hotly freezing (in perpetuity),

and guaranteeing, limning, and ossifying
unchanging lifelong livingsocial abode
of Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum
at that juncture (of happy and healthy)
within the space time continuum
4 after Midnight, (when Christine
came down with severe bout of misery
qua writer's block), and sponsored
by Plexus, nexus Lexus Wilkie Buick,
who guaranteed their

handsomely crafted automobiles
(specially designed with an app
to weather fierce blistering,
pelting thermal withering geologic events,
sans natural catastrophes)
included extra durable crushed bougainvillea
(allegedly beefed chromosomes)
deftly effected fortified (gluten free)
genetically housed immensely
jimmied, kindled, lionized magnetized numbskulls.

The volcanic magma seemed to possess
an uncanny intelligent, eerie ability
to discriminate among bias,
die hard extremist stances, liberal take
on hot button controversial issues,
political ultra factions, hence the eye catching,
shining, yet confusing moniker
"Smart Ash" soon codified, fructified, indemnified
with the reputable, musical, and inestimable
qua personae non gratae prodigy Sam Ash".

Actually, there did seem to appear
some natural likeness in violent temperament,
resonant penchant, and nascent lambent
Jill Saint John habiliment
between former magmatic material,
and protean Primate prehensile prattling Simian,
who (as a sidereal stellar story teller)
happens to be yours truly.

Anyway, due to strict
parochial Lutheran hackneyed dogma,
no iota of boasting, flattering, nattering chattering
allowed from this anonymous,
hip po' eponymous, harmonious, industrious,
innocuous, judicious, loquacious, marvelous,
querulous Norwegian bachelor farmer.

Ponder with scrunched furrowed brow
in a serious effort to expound at large
this incredulous nebulous,
shape shifting (than compound
an understandably mixed up notion),
thus now tis a noteworthy opportunity
to point out divulging the name of this scribe
would immediately necessitate notification
of Non-Coms, who would forcibly usher
this lapsed long haired pencil neck geek.

This action (not newsworthy in the least),
would thus mocks nix notorious nauseating, nasty,
never-ending nonsensical noodling.

How sad, hence tis not wise tune hip
virtual thorn in the dark side.

Rather best bet would be to buffer end
this figurative bud dee **** encased
within corpus callosum.

Though identity guard disallows revealing namesake
of this nincompoop, the most information
told about this little known author
can be reduced to one word.

That abridged version would deprive
any subsequent reader a brave attempt
to interpret convoluted spaghetti writing.

Despite ambition to bob and weave continuously
(creating a conglomeration of ever increasing
virtual loose threads),
one final capstone concept begs to be conveyed.

Thine ziggurat severely atilt rivaled
(sorry tubby cheesy),
but the Leaning Tower of Pisa!

Asinine argot acquired bilious berserk baggage,
which stakes no claim nsync with
longevity, magnanimity, notoriety, et cetera.

A series of unfortunate literary,
lickity-split liberty unintentionally
left a prose ache wake.

An honest to dogness attempt bedeviled crux
displaying evident fiasco.

Slinky circumstances, sans synonymity,
synergistically, and synchronicity
yielded a feeble effort at fame.

Birth thing a complex mental edifice
begot aborted aspiration foray zing
grateful, mindful, and respectful characterization.

Mental health of yours truly
heavily reliant upon one selective serotonin
reuptake inhibitor named fluoxetine (Prozac)
aside from countless
(approximately seven) other
prescription medications kept
stashed in a plastic tray
until one or more taken at least once
or at most three times daily.

The wife flush with grand ideas
to gleefully, playfully,
and zestfully pester me
dreamt up a new fangled game,
whereat she moves
fast as greased lightning
thunderously laughing
her dexterous hands
airing maneuvering feints,
either replacing and/or removing
drug containers;
(some with caps prone
to pop off with relative ease
versus others with child protective covers
even though our progeny -
deux darling daughters -
long since emotionally, financially
and spiritually fending for themselves).

Though childlike said antics
exhibited courtesy the wife
analogous magician eliciting "****"
prestidigitation her wrist flicks
her reputation to wield
sinister magical powers rife
as a graduate of Hogwarts School
of Witchcraft and Wizardry,
she ranked as an outsize force
with legacy legerdemain legion
instantaneously kickstarting
irreversible incantation
finding me transformed
into a nasty, short and brutish oaf
with little spindleshanks -
think toothpicks for legs -
reigned on from tempest in a teapot
while seeking cover under
lee side tulip tree leaf
comfortably numb nestled within kloof.

All around me
symphonic quiescent overture – heard
maestro Kant imitate
tryouts starring musical prodigies
and/or an attendant conductor
attempt to approach ambient chorus
divinely exhibited from Gaia's handiwork
heavenly invoking kapellmeister
magnificent nonchalant outlook
piquantly, quintessentially,
repertoire sensately striking
unmatched vast wisdom
yielding zephyr air albeit creativity
engineered from groundswell harmony
juxtaposed, kindled, linkedin,
manifesting noteworthy
opulent philharmonic recording
transcribing universal
veritable webbed wide world.

Wunderkinds yield Ziggurat
acme approximated asymptote
bequeathing celestial
Doppelganger Earthly emulations
formulating fractal glinting highlighting
ineffable joie de vivre jostling, keen kindling,
la la land legerdemain lifting logic
lording Ludwig (Josef Johann) Wittgenstein.


Yelping zoological apostle
Al affidavit Gore handily
heaping hubristically invocation
jolting kickstart measures
nipping nixed noblesse oblige opera
quickening quotidian
rapid ruination sans supreme
teetering upended venerated wise with acumen
arithmetical Benoit Mandelbrot
chasing far-fetched ideas
lightyears menacing nihilism
purging ogres opportunistically  
resplendently ripping
revered tankard tipping unstoppably
vanquishing varietal whipsawing
wonderful wrapt yawning  youngsters
warfare written wrought  
yanking zestfully crushing environmental family
granting Herculean instant karma
malevolent, opprobrious pronouncement
quiet riot silencing severely
tragic ubiquitous vicious wreckage
yik yaks apemen cleft Earth.

Future foragers denounce
capitalistic bamboozlers aggression
zealots wrought trashing
quintessential naked kingdoms issue
flotsam coagulates zonal wastelands
torquing quality NON
killing habitats Earth bleached
yellowed voodoo ruins.

Asleep like no other thing, my heart embroiled in wakefulness
discarded…
i plunder the trivial epics of my disjoint
to gather to a flame more miracle
than a hope
it burns.

Dreaming where the fumes are mute. my lustrous disasters
sprawling like prawn on a lake of fire
dismembered by a remembrance
as vagrant as a horde of precious
where a kept denial
is a fob.
and a wheel is 
another sleep
for a turn.

wings clipped by comets as earnest
as thuggish moons, plundering tides
for their rhythms
to keep the drums of doom
at bay...
as pretty as bone marrow
whistling moo
to a deaf zealot
in the ziggurat of a posh
coma.

Asleep, where the aire is bending to the north
of a pinch of earth that dawn squanders on the mortal eye…
i surmise all oblivion in verse
and succumb to susurrus of oblique charms....
moon mad with barking stones in my gullet
foiled by the magma
of my intense
starvation.

hell-kept in heaven’s mockery
for the lack of an Always
as Perfect as
a Never.

always.

Granny hit you with it you fly across the room
she was a 5th generation blue note hep cat
a finger popping bebop sister with double elbows
you can have your two bit Buddha garden
and your hope token miracle Jesus candles
Granny created man in a long jungle ****
an incomprehensible symphony of base instincts
yet a mind of superb palpable functionality
that could light up an airport bomb squad
when her mud ***** twerked the National Anthem
and her army of vinyl inflatable **** dolls
offer you their luge team thrill ride
in Grannyland your organs of perception
will spank down your organs of deception
then she can show you the birth of her world
never mind the Frankenstein lurching
occasionally possessed by paroxysms of logic
she told me that self-creation has its dangers
that discovering by mocking yourself
you are better able to live with yourself
there's a big hammer out there sweetheart
and it takes many guises she tutored
there is no authority other than
the congenital boot print on your face
that there can be said with authority
you square your corners or it's pinball 24/7
Granny's wunderkinder actually go to church
on the altar they burn condoms and debit cards
she reads from the ancient Aegean Thesaurus
fishing in the innards of conformity for signs
beyond confection to the great innocent core
where the chrome 49-51 split ***** in planets
some things are indivisible to yes or no
for reasons neither I nor my investors can fathom
and 10 minutes ago is already the quaint past
where literally everything goes unobserved
except for the changing room theft cameras
a useless expensive data handling system
visions of granny's ******* kept me going
kissed brave by her pouting fuchsia lips
tossing fetish gold down the well for luck
then the usual Hell's road show erupts
welcome home you are a freak like us she purrs
and the clock towers tumble to earth
cuz nothing lasts forever
Granny's last words were I'll teach you to hex
and wield the appalling incantation of Ur Ziggurat
******* love me as I am

From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon

Vox Populi, Vox Dei
speak as one, unified
no matter, you say
death of a butterfly, justified
secession from Heavens, ratified

Cowering behind divine intervention
children in their towering mud creations
ever closer, mortal fingers scraping skin
just below, judged in their harmonious intentions
near enough to condemn them all under the blanket of one sin,
your Ziggurat, a layered city wrapped around a societal invention,
determined to climb, rats in a maze, all of their days
they give to meet their maker, unaware all along, what gods do to towers
a race that all understood and lived together, confounded and cast many separate ways
for the ambitions, or no reasons at all, they had to trifle with superstitious powers
humanity dreams kindling for angels at night so the sun may burn it beneath its rays
nothing admired, wanted, loved, desperately hoped for or desired really stays

Etemenanki, a place and time on earth that could not be
you have everything, everybody, do you know if you're happy?
You've never been tested and brag that you're strong-willed
you'd starve for attention before your loved ones, gilded, jaded, know your stubborn hatred can't
be
killed
are you happy, one foot in the grave and three feet from the abyss, is this what it feels like to be fulfilled?
Fried wires burning through traumatic, relapses reminding unkind synapses to ignite like wildfires
no caps, music that echoes elastically through hallowed halls, sensory demands that snap-back like they're played on rubberbands, we rise to their demands, every tower falls, electricity in the adrenal glands, eternally juggernauts on the sands, ziggurats you can hitch the Hindenburg to, Shenandoah and the Challenger too, hopes for the literal and metaphysical ascension of man, swatted bricks by the tricks of a frightened, lesser-than,
humanity is what? Being, knowing what it is to be, seeing, believing, surviving,
a brain inside a skull that can't comprehend, stones on either end of a shelf for the Encyclopedia Humanitas, Alpha and Omega, where the books begin and where it ends
without it you're nothing but a bag of meat driven solely by appetite and agenda; a toolbox full of contacts you call friends
without them you're chemical actions peeling back friction, a fraction, catching a picture of the traction that glitch in the matrix of a matchbox resurrection, strikeout, your dead son and I play pretend    

Defiance is second nature to second nature, which is science
industrialized, militarized, the taste of copper in your throat
the Titanic sailed and sank, but they can build a bigger boat
do we court disaster, titans of machines, conflict and reckless responsibility for our Mother Earth?
When the bill comes due, unless other planets have been broken in too, we pay it all back in detriment or betterment for our place of birth.

the circumstance of his birth
had somehow become joined
to the circumstance of his life
raised on cowboys and Indians
when no bigger than a twig
alone on a little mattress
talking to limp cloth animals
explains much of this
chromosome damage no doubt
a chugging tractor discs the soil
a mile away growing unheard
as sleep opens its music box lid
my rapid pulse is transformed
and becomes visible as black spots
which begin to grow together
eyes begin to move independently
floating face up I think they are open
wishing they were lanterns instead of
window panes unable to blink back the view
held open by the weight of two images
the great mound of bones and teeth
scene of rituals unspeakable
sordid affairs and so ordinary
if they tell you there's no describing it
they'd better have a blank expression
victims of gravity searching for a place
where the double war between
the odds and evens has not yet reached
wondering who invented tables and chairs
calendar on the wall brittle and torn
by a window climbing sun
pages flutter like moth wings
whispering parts of speech syllables
a screen door bangs dogs bark
crossing the linoleum a trail of ants
water drips in the sink
a moon rises over mobile homes
drawn in a circle against the dark
red flares line the highway at night
vagrancies outstrip the vacancies
with charlatans on every street corner
in a fervent denial of perception
before the rubble of the holy ziggurat
burnt offerings burnt heretic
having learned how to learn
he began to teach how to teach
on the plan-it planet
finding fresh chewing gum
stuck under the diner counter
when is an idea dead and useless
you'll need to be able to spell dog and cat

From "Pageant of Naked Mischief" available on Amazon

Granny hit you with it you fly across the room
she was a 5th generation blue note hep cat
a finger popping bebop sister with double elbows
you can have your two bit Buddha garden
and your hope token miracle Jesus candles
Granny created man in a long jungle ****
an incomprehensible symphony of base instincts
yet a mind of superb palpable functionality
that could light up an airport bomb squad
when her mud ***** twerked the National Anthem
and her army of vinyl inflatable **** dolls
offer you their luge team thrill ride
in Grannyland your organs of perception
will spank down your organs of deception
then she can show you the birth of her world
never mind the Frankenstein lurching
occasionally possessed by paroxysms of logic
she told me that self-creation has its dangers
that discovering by mocking yourself
you are better able to live with yourself
there's a big hammer out there sweetheart
and it takes many guises she tutored
there is no authority other than
the congenital boot print on your face
that there can be said with authority
you square your corners or it's pinball 24/7
Granny's wunderkinder actually go to church
on the altar they burn condoms and debit cards
she reads from the ancient Aegean Thesaurus
fishing in the innards of conformity for signs
beyond confection to the great innocent core
where the chrome 49-51 split ***** in planets
some things are indivisible to yes or no
for reasons neither I nor my investors can fathom
and 10 minutes ago is already the quaint past
where literally everything goes unobserved
except for the changing room theft cameras
a useless expensive data handling system
visions of granny's ******* kept me going
kissed brave by her pouting fuchsia lips
tossing fetish gold down the well for luck
then the usual Hell's road show erupts
welcome home you are a freak like us she purrs
and the clock towers tumble to earth
cuz nothing lasts forever
Granny's last words were I'll teach you to hex
and wield the appalling incantation of Ur Ziggurat
******* love me as I am

From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon

underneath the bridge where the trolls eat goats and the rays of the sun are rumored
to be Pisces and the world is an odd duck, galumphing along beside the other world
you’re actually in.
there are songs about the territory but-
no melodies to remember
them with.

we sleep through the screech of time
and canonize the raptures
of our complete illusions.
born in a cage of open skies
and cul de sacs… we depart from our roots
to sprawl amid the vanishing and -
all waves of endless
deep.

Like
a speck of dust on a lens
is a ziggurat
to a lens
cap.

and a condor
to an almost
Life.

My mind a changing room, revolving ideas of beauty and mistake
Or perhaps a camera with too much to capture
Shuttering to think of life as a liquid
For as long as one can recall it’s been a real gas
But the influences are many, they are vexing
Meddlesome technology and Infernal desires
From beneath the compounding cacophony
of a pretense most alleviating and comforting
Cries a little voice heard only by angels
Pitched by a man trying to find his mother,
whose healing hands built the basements
beneath the Great Ziggurat, left to be found later,
indeterminate and perplexing during survey
but in truth was never really known.
A collection of grainy photos connected by string
on a wall in a quiet corner of a lonely home
seeking to make sense
of what was sorted out by Siddhartha some time ago
in the jungle beside himself, within the veil
of casual decay and serious growth.