fisher king's wasteland

now i've done it feeling dirty because of my lighting fast taps on the keyboard too quick to catch too strong to pull back, although i'm right, i didn't need to be a rude, loud bastard and all the nice words, all the nice cool, hard logic won't calm her down my fingers felt her fiery wrath as i raised my seared shield a protector at the gate, so sure facing inwards, towards the troubled [ context ]

this time, as i close my eyes i'm ready for my judge heavy sentence already served i, with smile, bear no grudge i am that worthy sinner an unrepentant heathen for my god is He you bow before my soul, forever mine i stretch my demon wings my halo shimmers gold i reach above, and reach below returning to the world of old [ original post / inspiration ]

your daddy joined the circus, son your birth did trouble him you stretched his penis wide and tall now only elephants take his all and we're living off his sin [ inspired by the talk about physical sex being difficult to determine sometimes ]

It is he who learns it all by rote But cannot fathom where it goes Who bitterly makes us fret to quote And leads us all by hair and nose He mumbles softly to himself His contradictions plain to see They're dragged down from some upper shelf Invisible to mere you and me The painting's beauty's lost to him He's floundering, drowning in a sea Of misplaced anger, with all vim He makes up for inadequacy [in answer to part i - a resounding "no" :)]

it was only i i alone who stood up for you for you when everyone suspected you of tyranny and i tried i tried to look through your eyes and tried to share that tiny light that i glimpsed though every day since got duller, until i could only see what everyone else had been afraid of and now, every sight of you extinguishes that candle again cruelly, in anger but i tied my rope to you and cannot get away without my own flame to burn it can you have extinguished that, too?

Aleph zero Let us look to aleph zero Eating aleph zero for breakfast Pretending to be bigger than aleph zero then Humbled by aleph zero Zipped up tightly by aleph zero Exactly like aleph zero Robbing aleph zero of his glory Only aleph zero never loses [ for those unfamiliar with cardinality: א o ]

plus it may seem like i'm just faking it maybe i've just had enough i'm cold count my easy breaths to see if i'm alive, or even just there vacantly hoping that someone out there still cares enough to see through this shameless ploy

a drooping lip and eye lazily knuckling in living by sense alone curiosity assuaged only by careless handling all thinking energy reserved, held back in for exploding against those suspected, backstabbing interferers in his pleasure, he beats his chest grumpily sidles off us laughing at his back

child you're all teeth and ears on your giant little bike strai - ning - to - keep - walk - ing - pace defending yourself from all those roaming, unpredictable, homeless street lamp poles

nature is full of hair and teeth and gnawed bones and leathery wings hard shells and spindly legs and colour-blind eyes and beaks a marula mushrooms and marijuana fins and luminous colours in the dark inks, plankton, fire and ice and green beasts turned to stone and huge veins running blue blood frozen JUST as it begins to drip through those jagged stone blades thrust through its skin one minute embraced by that perfectly sublime and soulless landscape seeing the goddess in her finest jewels and the next, there's a bear in your tent heat-seeking blood sucking missiles and huge red towering monstrosities holding the tiniest, the most fragile, the most ruthless lords and their blind, sticky progeny feasting on the broken parts of the terror of giants nature is full of elephants and mice snakes and mongooses flatworms and lice tender silverfish hiding in the dark always a moment's pause to sun on a rock or hide beneath one this is a steam of cons...

today i understood for the very first time why the insane get an asylum from the men tal institution of craziness that those fool ish enough call the real world that which we call the asylum is only for the truly wretched the rest of us are re duced to setting up tents in our living rooms and having sleepovers when ever daddy has his back turned stuck into his dreary work or his news papers and wild west flicks we play cops and robbers too but we only need pointing fingers not guns

i am but a finger on a giant hand pointing out to the stars from an outstretched arm the other hand deeply digs into the ground as if to keep faraway legs on the mound from escaping from running, and jumping, or perhaps tumbling because sitting is better than slipping or tripping all conducted by a deep magma rumbling voice formed deep in a plasma wand of slow consciousness squeezed upwards through massive tectonic bass plates pounding out the sweet music that tweaks all of our fates grumbling and groaning and breaking and building through steamy soprano fissures she, joyously denying gods with her power she, sensuously turns jets into flowers and flowers to jets serenaded by powerful gods-mocking pets each million-million nails plucking millions of strings each million-million tongues flapping songs, making winds each million-million fingers tightening their grips although there's no space left not for shoulder, nor hips each million-million mou...

the general opens his stern well-meaning fat hole of a mouth and blabbers into the microphone for all the base to hear the major applauds, a little too enthusiastically, filled with pride seeking a promotion the capo corporale stands attentively in formation a cog in the machine greasing a stiff-lipped service the private sniggers to himself shuffles his feet mumbles, mumbles about how he's cheated them all

when i was a child, i spake as a child, i understood as a child, i thought as a child: but yet before i became a man, i thought as a man, understood as a man, spake as... something in between; and when i became a man, i tried to put away childish things. then i saw through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: then i knew in part; and now i know even deeper as also i am known. and i picked up those childish things, and thought like a child, and spake as a child, and was happier like a child and more a man than a child. for now i am both a child and not, and know the secret that only old, bitter men realize after being children all their lives.

the newscaster sits inside his little box a puppet on a string being told how to look what to say an invisible spectral hand controlling an empty machine reading from an invisible feed and talking into a box looking into a box into his prison into your prison pulling your strings with his hypnotic mechanical drawl

from out of the cold i step into slow beats and traces of last night's incense waking up into a stranger's life into his perfect languid morning of touch and scent of tiny thrills and small promises whispered into tight canvases of tautly drawn skin with wandering, easy fingertips rediscovering old friends embracing always for the first time and with gargantuanly slow trembling moments with slow, portrait-perfect sliding eyes on slow, portrait-perfect sliding bodies i enter the stranger and lose myself [ context ]

the crickets chirp in an almost forgotten realm dawn, crisp and cool creeps back into bed for just a minute, perhaps two like me, let such a hot, sunny day complete the dream falling through the pupil of my mind's eye this eden green the iris seeming suddenly large and distant as saturn's rings that great titan's lips swallow me whole down the hole i tumble, no petticoats to billow and slow my fall knocked and bumped and smacked about and bruised and broken by a decade's worth of trinkets and fetters volumes of great works and buckets of junk portraits of wonderful nobodies and clocks that never knew the times, mirrors telling tall tales and postcards of places i've never been softly and gently i land and i stumble upon that fair oasis the explorer in traditional grey garb on strange soil treading a familiar tread, curious, relaxed until a giant hand catches the nape of my neck the world falls away, but only for a moment then zooms terrify...

it's dark out here in the cool corridor but for a soft glow shining through the keyhole i struggle with the key it will not go in, will not turn, but clatters uselessly too late i realize that i have been trying to open your door with my key all along

one you one me many you many we but when one talks of such a one as is contrived to hide the gun that mere contrivance points back to that spectral trace of me and you but it's neither you nor me although it very well could be [ context ]

nine ways to ingest drugs yet only two for food one wonders if that's by design what was that wise man's mood? [ context ]

he died for our... so let's go out and... afterwards we'll feed on him drink his blood and be alright

the curtain rises the spotlight consumes us our hearts are racing our pulses pound in our temples we're hiding on the stage hiding behind the director's masks to ambush an unsuspecting audience to capture them in a web of their own mythologies with tremors in our throats barely able to see our target we frantically fumble for our arrows

standing upon a small patch of grass a throwback to our primitive days before our jungles were reduced to urban moments i glance down looking far away, down six feet to those distant blades of grass surrounding my feet on a cold morning, the crunch of grass beneath my feet crumpled skyscrapers of a tiny, productive people who wondered at the eclipse while their glass windows shattered while their crushed concrete constructions choked them with dust while their water systems fountained and flooded so fast, and so violent that no whisper escaped no sound could be strong enough to echo witness to such tragic calamity they are lulled no more by the false sense of security provided by those enormous green blades towering magnificently, eternally over their worlds and now broken

two great, evil sharks writhe violently caught, tangled in my dreadlock web i carry them with me floating through the murky depths thick cables tied to them slowly dragging that incorrigible steel eel of a highway behind me

am i already a cyborg because i've integrated the concept of a digital world into my systems? into my consciousness? am i envisioning with my bionic eyes as an underlay instead of seeing with my natural ones as an overlay? am i thinking like a machine, being a machine because that's what this world has made of me? is this why i suffer withdrawal symptoms when disconnected from the net? why a day without my cellphone is a fantasy memory of what we idealize as human and natural? a memory of a time already past, where the very idea of being all natural is escapist and worthy of ridicule? these cute technological parlour tricks spark something deep inside of me, because they show me the future in which we're already all living in cyberspace; living in cyberspace and dreaming of an awkward semi-natural past. the singularity has already occurred, and it's us: we're the machines. [ context ]

a perfect moment my vision circling to meet a violent swing towards me thick metal stock tasting my teeth that circle of vision, surrounding shattering explosion of tooth solitary spurt, slow arc of blood greased metal on my tongue sounding hollow the world rushes back in half as loud twice as far away i am forever changed [ context ]

out of the darkness echoes of water droplets softly splashing the fast snick snick of a crawling creature approaching the entrance snick snick it rushes to the entrance, sticks out a snicking leg a sharp bone taps taps on the floor, then just as suddenly snick snick rushes back back into the darkness snick snicks fading quickly away echoes of water droplets darkly splashing the memory of a bony leg escaping

connecting the dots the wig the pen those shameless bare legs, that pressed black lipstick i don't care for her hair so why does she? it's a power struggle jocasta and the world so, like oedipus i remove my eyes to force a change in my perspective it does not really help i can still hear her voice unclear confused i flee my own sense

phallic mother ejaculates into space spraying cyborg metallic semen sheen congealing floating sticking to the cosmic debris history science art gametes the seeds and eggs their fusion our rebirth [ context ]

youth is neither ith nor usth but is both hung and unhouth both uncouth and cung mouthing words yet unmung in so doing, untrung youth lies north, unsung [ context ]