Unending dispassionate involvement with life
Critical crowd control along with docetic roleplaying
You can no longer hurt me now or here
The quivering sobs
The beckoning psalms
Poems jotted down for posthumous display
Translations made for great grandchildren’s children
All meaning hidden in abstraction and absent page numbering
I am the dating itself
Personal metaphysic of the BC to AD
Die down ego so I can sleep at least one night alone
Lost in the thought train of 3 am
And 2 inch clover crowded space
Among the opaque Poppy press and tipsy snowflakes
Passionate endeavours of the Christ Child
Weaving the scars and stars freshly into place
I behold the agnosia of mystic flame and flow
Alphabet superstar conspiring the Alpha and Omega
Beginning at the last things first
Clearing the way triumphant
Scales from my eyes beholden no longer
Thought inside the void reflected back on self
Confident expressions while being held closely to your breast
Your heart beating shamanic circles all over me
Christ the destroyer Christ the employer of hidden refuge and sages
These are days long since past decoding
Jerusalem has fallen along side Babylon.
I am shaking from sleep deprivation
Up since 2 am writing a refutation to my philosophy
Full of hallucinations and anxious bites is my trembling breathing
Come from the inside with the flies and spider webs
Create silver pathways
Behold Adam Kadmon, the knocking twisting Neanderthal above all
Conquering cowering fool veiled from the torrents below
Answering the question marks applied to foreheads
Paranoia and the theology of self-abasement.
So drained I can no longer enjoy a night’s rest.
There is joy though in this emptiness , an expectation, an event.
I have no reason for sadness, other than this wretched biology.
Myth and might, tripping twilight along with this scarlet beast inside.
I am my own lover and sister, betrayer and confidant, neither.
I’m trying to remember, my body is dying when I recall.
Sick and twisting in on myself.
Strangled by my web of lies and apparent unreal.
Save me, so I can re-break myself again.
There is meaning in the chaos.
What is left to distribute ?
Caught in the specters for the readiness of Being
Someone somethings somehow
Entities conceived with fore-knowing
Following the proto-ontologies of desire
A scribble may manifest all my unconscious theological tendencies
I am a man unbecome Itself towards the restlessness of because
Ready-at-hand but at no one’s request or betrayal
It is all a flock of sheep and inside
The bitterness feels better when you start to realize why no one cares
Caught in the lustfulness of thought
Your body burnt into my memory
We was covered in sticks
Brambles from the garden
Untoothed and unlined
Lucifer triumphant but why would we do that ?
Antibodies in our bodies forever
A dead bible curse
Translation is heresy
And spelling is worse forever in the fog forever a dog chanting backwards god
Biting my tongue simple brand spilled tv
Do not beckon the no no no
Zero in the four caught in the court Kali in the bird’s nest
I still sing beneath the fallen towers of IO PAN
Scribble and spit nonsense onto the bark of the tree where Judas sung his last
Babalon, babble on annon anonymously quicker than the dead left undone
Someone’s sometime child playtime
Fairie fairground Christ pill swallower on the mend
I pretend to believe and dare to pretend
There are cuts above my toes
Just below the bulge
I want this to all end in a good way the greatest of all
Does not sound like Because the knots do naught
Drag me to the tell tail signs in the skies
Behind my eyes read it in repeated muted verbs and the misanthropic
Principal allows me to become your pleasure and suicide
For on this morning we die in arms of pharmacological stranglings
Take me inside* and begin to un-fuck yourself
A new beginning we all knew would arise with the Light Bearers breathing
You are most beautiful but I share this enlightenment with no one
We are all deaf and blind anyway believing our own Concocting
Knowing full well of being unprepared and caught unawares
Just please re-record those phases and chord progressions
That mean so much to you and tell me
*Inside being the prayer cloister as we all know.
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Everything is so serious
The world is coming to an end
With each passing moment
Let’s build a monument to all my failures
And ignore all my achievements
Nothing in particular for I am peculiar
Of the moments groaning on the besides
My own torments last to see the jumping
Reflections bending side winding then don’t trust
Yourself for no one and especially not me for
A hole in a wall tales will tell and mistake
Your confusion for a beloved sacred
Illusion She is a dancer and now no where
Found lost in my lies and saintly naive mysticism
Drab of magic and misery mystic Christ always becomes
Don’t worry forgive me as nothing becomes this
It is raining outside.
So do not expect me to venture out much anymore.
Gut rot and heavenly musings.
There is no heaven, at least not for me.
I don’t believe in that shit, at least not anymore.
Reality is too real to try to blunt it with the abstract.
Yet here I am pounding my keyboard with vague eccentricism.
I won’t say what I really mean, so there will be no accounting.
Read whatever ye will into these here scribbles.
Every interpretation is profound and correct.
What am I really hitting at ?
A cry for help? an inside joke, only those on the outside will truly comprehend and be greatly amazed ?
Fate, superstition or ontological terrorism ?
I am not sure, but whoever wrote the gospels also created the first question mark.
Jesus doesn’t exist, he is what you want god to be.
God doesn’t exist, he is what you want to be….