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| 'Infinitesimal' - white ink and black koki on A4 black card, 2014 |
Swallow the
dreams from the blood of the flesh
Of the meat of the creature I ate all weekend,
Study the images,
smoke the grime from fields
Of dripping vines of perception
As I pick up
my pen and play Russian roulette
Staying up late listening to my friends
Crushing the jewel
cells of discontent, so juicy and
So succulent to separate semantics from the senses
While the lives
of silverscreen stars speed up disproportionately
Wrinkles forming grey hair receding perhaps from the years of
Channelled alter
characters they feed us, the gaping
Mouths of transfixed, fascinated fans and would-be zombies
Empty out
and forget, their dumbed lethargy and
Stupification silencing the last sigil as it falls off the pre-historic
temple doors,
The last symbol as
it fades from the stela twixt the Sphinx’s paws.
His Story is completely indifferent, apparently
Corroding
everything, everything away, we’re getting
Cut off, finally, from our thread, our link with
Bloodhuman past,
the meaning of our existence
The sound of antiquity and legacy, all language, vision,
Hypogeum of
legend & myth & intrigue is heard no more
Eroding & sinking, melting into the desertifying sands above:
Do we do them
injustice after all these carefully complex aeons
Of evolution and do they leave us to drown in our own selfie,
The vicious
roar of contemporaneity this 24 hour State
Of emergency, convinced of its own hyperprogressed modernity
And its academic
authority - a set of confused experts vying
For the ultimage ego glory: the sole monopoly on
The Truth of
this particular Story and the real secrets
lay buried forever or recycled into new dunes swept into
Cheap souvenir
hourglasses of the current deluge, our 5th Atlantis, woooo!
How exciting to finally be set free from Karma into Post History
Oh,
Precession of the Equinoxes, what have you in store
For us, our 20/20 vision ‘snot enough anymore perhaps was never
Enough. The
meridian slowly moves up the sky
How hauntingly thrilling, bone-numbingly chilling to witness
The rapid
count back of your numbers over horizons projected
Computer screen configurations, because we truly can’t see, can’t see
How lonely and
exasperating to have a taste of this vision
To feel the urge to and actually walk lightly on the earth,
Our lover,
friend, our motherfather place o’birth.
So culture dampened and unpracticed
This underdeveloped inkling of an
impulse
That it can only be now in these deathly dark ages
Fear of our
natures
Epoch reveal where do we come from
__________________________
It takes an
ever younger set of newer brains
To review and remove and renew things
And acceptance
that only the strong survive
(o’er a long period of time?
What bullshit if
Apprehended
outside of original context
‘tmay be I inspire with my scribbling of notes
That I do indeed
plan to take over the world
Economically
And thereby
incite thoughts of being quieter, kinder,
Smarter and wiser back home b’hind closed doors) as
I walk back ‘cross
the beach to escape the south sun.
That’s why Sundays are the best surf days perhaps
And when if
ever we don’t feel good it's
Only ever because we’re prevented from
Forbidden to do so
and then still
Proceed to get run down
And the weak
Choose to keep at it
The continuously
delightful earthbodily loop
Of repeated lives lived on the surface of this planetary Purgatory
For, the
longer one’s away from the water, the more
One forgets to replenish, to quench one’s thirst
One’s own loss of
hydroelectric power
And things then tend to start getting hectic around ‘round here
And suddenly it’s time to dance things out of the way
Every time something black, for you, comes out of nowhere
Things that have
become things you carry about you
Things that travel around with you, invade all thought,
You begin to
wither up, die under the gaze of
The airport security badge, the embarrassment of
Your own foolish
assumption of inscrutable purity,
The delusion of the human right to authority
In vain you
run run run as your entire luminously
Continual experience is reined into the iron vice grip of
This hellish now’s
Common Cultural Headcold
Or learn to
read the code in between
Faked security, systems of power and control
Which, though
ineffectual & incompatible with
any love or feeling,
And formed
in retaliation to loss and rejection
Do in fact, in their own little way,
Attempt to deal
with the uncertainty of Everything;
And true knowing that the only thing you can truly know
Is that you
don’t know the effect you’re having on someone else
That and the inalienable truth of the matter that
There’s nothing
you can actually make anyone do.
