March 2012 Written for my son Joseph Carson. Whilst yet thee furies burn,.
And prophets shall be heard in those days, crying out in the digital wilderness.
They shall be heard and yet not heard.
something grows up in place of what was there
(not so long ago).
I pledge to increase my personal fortune many times over by abusing the power and influence I will gain from being elected to this office.
(also, "Approve This Message.")
cannot see what I once saw
fearful the film is growing dim
fearful fits expire as they appear on film growing,
conning the spans, groaning the air, growing the dim
all the festive fields of green gaping, yawning joy
fearful films . The growing d I m,
grim are the tides that reap the shore
taking all sides and so much more.
THE CAM ER A FOLLOWS EVERYWHERE (without [movement¬]
this is one and all con strained through synchronous series .OF. . ..
( in teasingly cre a sing ly [¬])
Cease with me now, come all and ONE and seize.
.
bandit banks heap the houses and cars in piles
wolves with backwards jaws bite inside out
working the wireless transfers with bloodied furs
has there ever been such a lot of soulless curs
/the underground towers are written everywhere and anyhow
anyone at up for encodes digital lists scroll specifics?
at the cost of hard- bitten yah der furry firs (sic)@ frosteseums!
Satanic imps shoveling human forms into inferno machines
in each and every face vacant sneers of empty mindless doom
torment is a by product of profit and gain moving forward
Pushing us all toward the tragic, inevitable historic drain
In the glass and steel BLOCS there are M E N [n] POWERFUL SUITS
of close of course off course is their recourse on course to burn
The urn returns x 2x4[] this is how we s p e l l. . , WELLOFDREAMS;
"We wear these savvy suits monsieur, please do not apprehend the closest...digital...pardon us our abrupt of intrusion suit...suit..
.suit..Please to follow unlined of suitability for fitting digital
FORM NOW, ( it is all now ).
We ask to tell you and do without unnecessary understanding IT.
pro-tem, form you understand our speakers may wireless this is weigh beyond
simple deus incarnate, {throne prehensile}.
going backwards and downwards, inwards into these blank, burnt words
(oh heavenly kingdoms we the children wandering in ragged circles
looking for the eternally promised gifts and priZes
lift...loft..lift our lips in pointless praise of puerile Product
the squashed and rotten reduction mad production of ONE MONUMENTALLY ARCANE SCHEME)
WHO SHALL BE? THE FATHER . THE LONG LOST GHOSTS OF THE GARDEN WHO
SHALL RETURN MY ME TO ME MY BROTHER...?
[!] the ghosts of Baudelaire and Rimbaud appear to me at odd moments
Reading their poems to me from a great black book bound in flames of lavender violet scrolls,
pages of ancient leather wings each headed with this title ' The Book Of Night'.
There are no real issues, my hosts proclaim. In voices from beyond the violet heavens
it seems I hear them say. There is only the ONE ENERGY OF NOW. All the many forms displaced
matter articulate animate and in.
pointless grain in an infinite surrounding sea star glow
what lies centre all this burn
edge after end after edge after another end
we come to here_ they tell me such terrifying things...
we come with fire and time and voices speaking words,
with the voices of blind prophets who have become all seeing
In a book illustrated with the stolen energy of dying (worlds)
This was my cradle primer, how I cut the milk from baby teeth-
lying still with a mouth stuffed with ruses and raises for yourselves
proclaim the infernal realm is yours to own and ruin
what in the blasted name of sanctimonious, unholy Hell is the matter
someone, anyone know how such a rabid state of affairs developed?
rather unfortunate lot the masses salivate at any mention of product
delicious symbols crop the pulsating brainfields with bogus seeds of worthless
manufactories/plan a plant make a belt take some work
home to play with ideas can feel like freedom strange turn of events
take the bait schools of who Man yea you Man, you know the kind
of kin I mean???
cannot be what has not been_
all the nerves in the body connect to the brain I think
there bit for the face of odd where no I[or is there an eye for an I so the sayless pay]
More tender for the crushing bituminous litters/ binary held how high or hell low
do the rushing torments row to sweep all into aside the current and temporal nodes disguised codes of being.
DIAMOND D I A M O N D D. I. A. M. O. N. D
precious as are things to possess is to be possessed by the process
of making/selling/buying/owning/being/possessions/::d::i::a::m::o::n::d::/
i dam on d
ma
don id
din a dom.
cannot buy what I once bought or spend what is not there to end-
all the vibrating dots in fields of sense spent senseless spend senselessly,
amputated fingers reach for the dotted pen...the pinned
wings are plucked in the frenzied fanfare with truth to burn to death.
'Well now let me think, (.the furious cap of cognition is copiously applied at this p.o.I.n.t in time,
pointy prickly pointed time. Pen the pinned wings are for sale to the plucked...pluck the plucking pluckers to no end.
Although there may appear to be no end to spend it will at some point
cease.
Cease when the numbers invert and explode tiny fantastic sums of anti-matter. Schemes of gigantic fraud.
Yea and verily a veritable plague of biblical frauds is visited upon the blind, lying badlands.
Distortion is the norm in such times, fantastic nightmare shapes appear in sick, leering poses
scattered about the fiscal landscape.
This one a huge, monumental building of furious gold, emitting Hellish heat
but the death head door to touch is an infernal cold.
And here there is a mountain shaped like the mouth of some mythic beast
roaring hymns to black, blank oblivion, feeding upon the mute, massive screams of the inarticulate hordes.
They that have been driven like numbed yet anxious cattle from pillar to post.
They may have been dead for some time by now, the only energy remaining
being the fictitious momentum of savage gravity.
Remains, disparate concentrations of poor bought and sold focus. Who and what are these generations
trapped into ever increasing cycles of abandon all hopelessness.
It is as if THE WORD had been made flesh and ever after abandoned to fight it out against the relative vast
with the sly, quick fox jumping circles all about the unfortunately lazy brown dog.
And gGod if you happen to be paying attention and are interested in the Human Messpent
along with the historically unending Plague of Frauds. What is the value of a human life
or any life versus collections of things? What are these things that grow their OWN machines
to change the sameness of light and time into something too appalling to characterize through the medium of WORDS.
But I am and am not of THE WORD...says I am conceived yet I am not
come into complete and utter being,(not yet...be still a while inside the inmost IN!) and if I ever am to become
the being of original WORD:: it shall be inviolable and no longer subject to such interpretation
A worldwide plague of fraudulent fraudlings invariably insist without ceasing upon enforcing
in any and every foul unfair unweigh impossibly possible.
Surely there must exist worlds other than this of SPEND TO MAKE RICH THE FRAUDS AND IMPOVERISH THE GLOBE...
what other worlds support such sick twisted parasitic symbiosis???
Market Place? Financial Capital? Mark it world run by Fraud for the benefit of the twisted, sick fraudulent logic of mad midget souls
seeking to control the roaring worldly tides of temporal, material power in order to harness the Wealth Beast,
(yea and verily even that abomination which has crawled from the sea bearing six abominable horns of putrid gold
upon a head in the shape and form of that greatest of all false and-fallen cities)!!
It is in the distortion melee of such concussive moments of sheer neural revelation
that I seem to bear the voices of Rimbaud and Baudelaire like a yoke of shimmering violet fire,
pulling through the soulless boulevards of that hateful Metropole this engine spirit of not to be degenerated WORD...
THIS BOOK OF NIGHT!!
Unsay the THE WORD and be unsaid SEE and become unseen. Be one in a world that always was and has yet to be
a thought that has never been.
Taken away into oneself pieces of whole fragments imprinted each particle with the letters of the thought that is yet is not,
(NAME) the hidden places that sleep screaming seas of silence thrash in mad, wild throes of longing,
longing to be conceived to be born to receive the gift of (KEYS)
Cannot say what I once said
No longer focus beyond the immediate burning pages write
non sentient dots of transfinite growing closer to a part
of self of our selves and the creation of thinking, (BEING)
do not know...do not say...do not think...
let the dots be the compositions...selves come into being...
The world has grown blank with being,
The great everything to everyone, the new the latest the best deal
some incredible experience awaits the external being a symbolic
Object of the randomly tumultuous experience of the massive dive inwards
IN WORDS.
The you that waits with a others eyes transfixed same sight tricked
again monuments immemorially objected texts/cut/recut/re/0/cur/do
not WHOLE, is not to BE whole in any static sense STATE IS STATE.
I am smitten eyes forever returning to that unreal CITY of blood, dirt
smeared with the bleary prayers of the crushingly oppressed.
Crying out from underneath the hypnotic trance of this accursed gift given me to bear in any weathers
this VIOLET YOKE of WORD...shhh
Such words are murderous to the DAYS and may only be repeated in dead and silent hours written in devils hand
repeated in strangling angelic torturous labors (black winged leathern bound) within THE BOOK OF NIGHT
Surely as The Night approaches and finally must reach and overrun every seawall of the soul,
assuredly it is THE INFERNAL HAND which grasps in such an icy gripping vise all the lying intricate machinery
running the World to an exhausted and futile DEATH#
'take all the others...' the last lament of burnt, scarred lungs..wheezing desperate prayers from the backs of ghostly shelves/
libraries of burning w o r d s...world stripped of all wardrobe of meaning without context or substructure.
Open your mouths to speak and they are closed, rub your lips to feel the taste of HANDS and yes! they are bound to be gone.
THE SACRIFICIAL HANDS
Bound and tied to be found wandering smitten eyes and poisoned hearts and minds and souls...severely, sorely tested and tried...
YOU are EACH and in ALL terribly bound between these burnt and smoking chary covers.
.lost hands and feet and eyeless futile rages...
BOUND to lose the will to see yourselves as SELF (less) BEING cast en mass into the fields of fitfully burning pages..
.spirits gnashing and wailing tearing at the sickly luminous columnar spine that composes
this never-ending torment of horrible madness that is THE BOOK OF NIGHT
Sometimes the cracked and dried ink eternally curling and peeling from those infernal roaring pages.
..fractal dots dumbly reflecting human geographies of the continually incinerating (W)hole...assume a guise of
FACES¬ falsely animated organs of HUMAN EXPRESSION...repeating quasi-religious phrases of PROMISE.
..faces with empty holes of void for mouths and voices exhaling a stench of rotten pitch and repetitious
robotic versions of THE PRIMAL UN ORIGINAL LIE
False versions of THE DIVINE METIER/devouring/ever more minute increments of hallucinating TIME...
I can no longer hear such voices without seeing that awful looming sky
and the mindless evil PROSTITUTION OF THE WORD!!!
constantly and wrongly misappropriated to serve those whom exist as SLAVES OF THE STATE.
..misrepresenting the actual purpose of their ACTING and being to make perpetual the temporal bondage of all
peoples and energies to that which is inherently and intrinsically and eternally utterly
FALSE‚ LIES‚ between the AGES of THE BOOK OF NIGHT
Is this why the ancients prayed to fractious deities existing in their
tempestuous paradox of peace while perpetual war and devastation rages
amongst the peoples of poignantly fragile incredibly cowardly endlessly brave, limited infinite sphere?
I may no longer ponder such numbing incertitudes!.
hateful shackles of iron slow poison poised to drop
like monumental anchoring deities of some before known FALL
as am I into the gaping ends of the world, mote amongst the
voice of torrents of torments pleading for yet another quotient of
THE MYSTIC DAILY BREAD.
PARADOX OF SENSES
EVERYTHING OF WHICH SENSE IS MADE RENDERS SENSELESS.
THAT WHICH IS. DOES. MAKES. OR. CREATES. BUILDS. DISPLAYS. SELLS.
MASS PROFITS INIMICAL IN MATHEMATICS OF MISLABELED DEVASTATION.
BLAKE...BAUDELAIRE..RIMBAUD...
such poetic luminaries as these THREE!!!
come to me in visions as monstrous seas of SLEEP sweep the upturned
graves of dead and bygone ages across my burning brow...
"follow in the wake of sacred lights" they say. The world will be devoured by packs of ravenous,
slavering jackals soon as not. Open too
Your voice in concert with celestial voids for surely as we speak, shalt not the heavens hear?"
Such laudable company as yon laurel crowned KINGS OF INIQUITY AGAINST THEE SICK'NING CROWNE.
..beckon me to follow in an ARCANE ART'S written writhe and wise, flying over the OLD DRAGON'S stench,
the horrific bellowing sulphur and any and every humanly inconceivable angle of inhumane retribution
such celestial anathema as this abomination of peoples, cultures, every level of THE MYTH we know as the THE WORLD does
forever without ceasing insist upon our apparent being.
An uncertain somnambulant code bars the hands and eyes of the common citizen of THE STATE
SOME ONE...SOME THINGS...reaching with our ownerless hands to pick the produce of blood and
flesh and souls...THIS PREYS ON THE HUMAN SPIRIT!
Damnable fiends of that always PERIPHERAL INFERNO...does a higher intelligence direct the actions
of such conniving legions of misery? If so, what is their pay? What possible compensatory package
could be worth all the ransacking of every civilization ( euphemistically speaking )
that exist and have ever existed in this globe in this sphere in each and every mind and soul that has ever drawn breath,
had a thought to share, felt love, aspired to dream. Only to be funneled into the visible and invisible
channels of that hateful stone and iron machine which forever chews the higher wishes for ALL into reconstituted
shreds of tortured matter to become the objectified OBJECT OF PROFANE SELF SERVING LUST for the select slaves
whom serve that EVIL BALD LYING FACE
OF EARTHLY POWER.
Who writes the binary chains to supply such a code? Let us listen to the rain ghosts and evanescent spirits
such as are dreams locked within the memory of ancient sentinel trees,
The first waters and ambrosial airs. What and who was and is this UN NAMABLE THING that came to
be that which is the undoing of all that is right and fair?
Your shoulders if I may dear friends, the burden of THIS VIOLET YOKE grows with every word and
yet I would speak of these matters and in such breaths as may appear only wishing for everyone's
release and the soul to be freed from the
Purgatorial Fires unceasing binding and dreading us all between the
beastly pages of THE BOOK OF NIGHT...
The extraordinary shall become common place
Outrage and Shock everyday news
Throngs and Mobs One Huge Scream of Mute Voice
FOOD SHELTER TRANSPORTATION CLOTHING RECREATION
MEDICINAL THERAPIES
ARCHETYPAL TEMPLES STACKED TO HEAVEN WITH BRAZEN IDOLS!
WORSHIP PROFANE OBJECTS WEIGHTLESS GHOSTS
DRIFT IN HEAVY SPIRALS INTO NEGATIVE SPACE.
Something waits to code the MARK MADE
the human face turning inwards blind features
spinning like THE WORLD no longer recognizable
existing only in an ever absent now ...WE SPEAK
Paying back the poisoned lightning, the stolen value of THUNDER
becomes only more deafening as we listen with interest on rented ears
bound utterly to the alien MIND that is owned by all we owe
those dark POWERS . THE . PRINCIPALITIES. THRONES .
cracks the foundations of THEE OLDE CLOCKTOWER .
All shall cry wildly in the darkness
waving seas of mad flags . Calling the names of false gods
In sad and awful facsimiles of praise and worship echoes
sacrificing the vacuum of THOUGHT
ALTARS OF NOTHINGNESS . . .
Finding branded on every tongue the WORDS
WRITTEN IN THE BOOK OF NIGHT .
so where's the profit in mass disenfranchisement ?
Goes back so far into the deep dark origins of human being...
back so far, far too far to see from shining sea to the current
practice of digitally mining the more finite aspects of infinity,
WHERE IS THE PROFIT PEOPLE?????
Oh say CAN YOU SEE
BY THE PROFITS WE SEIZE
WHAT SO BALDLY WE SOLD
LIKE THE TWILIGHTS MAD GLEAMING
AND THE CROCK IT'S NOT FAIR
AND THE MOCKS INSINCERE
RAVE GOOF THROUGH THE BLIGHT
THAT OUR DRAG WAS STILL TEAR
OKAY DOES THAT CAR MANGLED BLADDER VET CRAVE
O'ER THE LAND OF THE FEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
AND THE GNOME OF THE CAVEEEEEEEEEEEEE
;;;;;;;;;7$6
They have transmuted the idea of STATE
(the very idea)(of)(such a thing)
Our missing FATHER dear MISSION Mother
ABZENTED wheregone the PLANE HAS FLED.
in parentis loci in prima facia...
THIS IS THE IDEA.?
They come to me through the fields of EYE
through grounds of see less SEAS
swimming turbulences of air rivers of SKY
doubtlessly unaccountable they come seeking blind wings
To bear each unbearable brazen stamp they rear and ramp
In their teeming muddled millions screaming with dreaming
Ears they arrive and depart awash and dried in the sensational
holding forth their nameless hands as though to beg a gift
Insensately delusional with generational drift, the sum
Of sound is written round the valley walls
fields of shadows attain insidious velocity tin ricochet
LISTEN TO IT GOOD LISTEN EVEN IF YOU HAVE TO DIE FOR IT
Pays us all to wait for something to wait for the world to come and SAVE
WHO?
IS YOUR FAMILY THEY SAY ...PACK...TRIBE..HORDE...HIVE...FLOCK...SCHOOL..
GROUP...ORGANIZATION...et:al begs the meaning of definition bends the lightning curve
Of space and time and the worlds revolving motion beckons always still
DON'T YOU DARE TURN THE STATION THEY MAKE YOU SWEAR
LIKE A TATTOO TO BEAR AN IMPRINT EMBLAZONED WITH A FELL . INVERSE RIGHT .
AND DRAWING LIGHT INTO THE UTTER BLACK POOL THAT FORMS
INSIDE THE WORDS I WRITE SO FAR AND DEEP
INTO THE Book OF NIGHT...
Always waiting to be read bone burnt words encrypted scriptures.
BLACK CHURCH SERMONS BEARING STILL BORN HYMNS WAR WORN BURDENS
sinking sleepers underneath everything collected to invoke
sacred violets eyes intone even after I have gone
struggling through these stranded country streets wearing close my yoked bonds...
THEY HAVE TRANSMUTED THE SUBLIMINAL SYMBOLS INTO PRISONS BAD DREAMS OF NIGHT I SAY...
Compulsive womb sitter in convoluted wired whirls of digital amniotic pools of
Auto-hypnotic suggestion...OF EXIST...BUY..CONSUME...(and become consumed)
BY(buy) the process of the unwitting (re)(UN) written code which subverts text to
assume and consume all sentient being only taking the ever present now away again
promising instants of advertised pleasure for a COST ... WHAT? A COST.
It is quite costly what the camera sees no expense is spared to parse this picture name.
WHAT IS A HUMAN BEING IN THIS DIGITALLY BRAVE NEW WORLD?
New World, whatever in dear old heavens name happened just this moment wonders are just
beginning to seed the lowering clouds of propitious unceasing.
DIGITAL CAMERA BEINGS. . . CAMERA SEAS THE MEANS OF PRODUCTION
AND THEREUNTO PRODUCTION OF CONTROL OF CONSUMED CONSUMING BEINGS .
. . SEE? . . .Seas " " " SEIZE THE MEANS AND WHEYS COMM I T T E E . .
. CURDLINGS AND WAIST TO GHOST MS. TAKE SPORK MASH EN:THICKENING: . . .
IN't!
IT shall be possible to digitally erase and remove unnecessary portions
of population when the INVESTED ELITE ESTATE determines such existence extraneous to the greater social objective.
THIS OBJECTIVE BEING. . . being (?)
[ a word on GOD ] . . . ' En:garde GOD! HUZZAH SIR VAH HO JA !
DO DAH DAY and DINAH mustn't be late on time for duel condini mums Yuma
shore THE LUMINOUS LIMINAL ETERNAL WWWOOORRRDDD defined or else foray.
..for your daily bread a prayer is said to thee camera spy write a letter just in mind to
your puree congressional satellite memo. . .
m e s s a g e ore c o n text you all are subjective data being daily
Programmed for ERASE fingerprint tint mint lint to fear the mirroring
Face that seers veers and peers leering at the race mapped and trapped flapped and sapped
wound with wounds and falling through their pace. . .
THEY HAVE TRANSMUTED MEANING WOUNDING MURDERING THE LIGHT
TURNING EVERY HUMAN WORD INTO THE BOOK OF NIGHT . . .
[[[[it all comes back to me at oddest times
the natural voices of the trees...the silent spirit of childhood
an infinite promise of forever pouring like a flood of free souls
dreaming who was there so self absorbed into such innate blue...
knowing without knowing we knew, what was always known
how fine to be made as were the stars
to shine within ourselves with being freshly remade,
Oh there was someone there before the mirror of the skies
lovely as you were and always was
It all comes back to me at oddest times...]]]
AND JUST AS SUDDENLY IS GONE a g a I n
always in the process of being swallowed by LIFE'S
MONSTROUS LIE‚
always searching out the map and key to being one being ONE. . .
O. N. E
being. one.
W one O one R one D oneoneoneone wordwordword ONEONEONEONE .
I can no longer find myself or anyone else in this place
where words no longer speak meaning, not to me or anyone I know
not how to find the words to know what the thought is meant to say.
SAY IT ALL IN ONE VOICE...FREEDOM UNISON IT SHALL BE...
seize back the s. e. a. s. who sees rose wells in violet shells...
($)lieslies
heaped sediments of afore same sedimentary mentions dis (c); hon$helves (r bells?) to mention...
SOMEONE THE SUM OF ONE MANY FOLDED INTO THE EVER FOLDING WARP AND WOLD OF N...I...G..H...T...
says the seas pleas seize the S...U...N...
what is the sum of THUNDER(ing) CREATION, ?
who shall come to see the utterly completed equation?
SHALL ONE COME TO SEIZE THE SUM OF INFINITE NIGHT!!
Speak Oh Scribe of that city of lost souls, that place where everyone wanders into the same lost place
again and again and add it all up in digitalized displaced bi-fragmented greasy rainbow-sick pixel
frames of borrowed on living TIME...
borrowers:lenders:CAPITAL:CITIES OF THE SUM
who describes the world in such unholy denominators?
Something is always telling us all, ( just how deaf we have become ).
Something...one...SUM THAT
IS ALL(EVERYTHING)that is what is to hear through these deafening seas
seize, sees what goes so unheard?
That is all, but not everything. I will write to the eyes of this deafening city, describing lost thoughts,
abandoned minds and those whom art spirited away mere ghostly fragments
,
mute to the sound of LIGHT AS SHE WAILS BYE...for they are there are they not? Listening and interred with pitch black holes.
There is a mean-faced world of mute-word abandon screaming toward the black blanks out there, this EYE figured,
( a figure of speech.)
SLAVE TEMPLE FACTORIES
SPIRITUAL EXCISE TAXES
THEE BLOATED EYE:::::;
Go froth fromst yon GARDEN FENCEHORTH AND BUILDETH ME A NABERTACLE!!!
so the workers went and they came from tar slung corners of the world..
for is it not written, (somewhere surely it is).
"For though we dwell in the world, we are not of the world," (let us as hope to hope not.)
so the workers were there gathered together and apart each one alone in their several companies..
.each one and several...several groups of one went hunting and gathering in the fields of day bringing
the bounties of all the human inhuman world bound and tried with chains of deep dark spoilt earth
tied to each and every several ones like links to count their kettles work...work to make to rake and ruin and burn
with fire recanting LIGHT..
How long until you find yourselves writ into THE BOOK OF NIGHT
FOR THE HOLY HEAVENS SAKE
there are principles in play here;
Principles of SOUND(ing). Sacred,
SACREDSOUNDINGPRINCIPLES
In this HERE p. L. A. Y. 0f. principalities. OfTheAir
END t h e off .OF. OFF THE AIR(!)
Finally the air is still, and completely dead. How will we breathe
Where where OH GO (to) w re at h e a wreath for sumseas (sisisees$) expirations...air off the air...take the air...
FOR HOLY GODSAKE H O L D T H E A I R...
back-dated prono bo rated B R E A T H.
Seasonal markers;felt- tipped workers shift sum shelves for dim selves
moo sum dim dum goo(!)(?)($).' ( now just you wait ) [n] ines...
W:A:I:T...wait...this is news...this is the news...
The very idea of History is no more. OM to the ever presence of Information.
If anything changes now it is only so within the flow of ever present information.
There are the hundreds of millions there to be displayed,(displaced).
There on the reeling scroll of scrim, indexed and tabled de-sexed and labeled for an eventual extermination.
There,,,there...THERE on the powerfully overreaching, overwhelming infernal preach of film.
The infernal overreach and preach of film, well there is always ON. On in the way of process and means to an end.
A neverending end that is and is not always ON. An END that does and in so doing does not.
Marks have been made on the doors of houses, every house that is fixed and transfixed inside the all encompassing DIGITAL CAMERA EYE...
The names of buildings are being changed even as we weep, rewritten into
the DARK CODE of all too INHUMAN MAN, perhaps they have become the protean mortar of dreams.
Spirits rise from ghostly waters
They register as mists of violet
Cover the screen they are whispering
without breaths to be felt
their very presence is like
some haunted image in a mirror
lost to all, once long ago
Epirus guise sans distal violets
plates of flowers on coastal shelves
violet masses kneel before the rising waters
for they have come to claim their missing kin
binary cities rising, christening the always
NOWNOWNOW:::
WHATEVER WE DO NOW WE DO WITHIN THE DIGITAL NOW
INFORMATION TAKES THE PLACE OF MONEY TAKES PLACE
IMSIDE SUM INNER DISPLACED MASS::::(masses lose all sense of time and place)
ERGO:::MASS:::EGO:::(loss of TIME+*PLACE):::MASSIVE.
Seas are swelling in this BOOK OF NIGHT, temporary eternal waves will wash the
pieces of God's broken WILL&TESTAMENT away and then return reformed, refilled,
another deed to file...( claim it under dreams ).
The FILE shall be so made as to contain d i a m o n d s & g o l d...
things humans value more than the lives of their fellow man.
Not everyone who lives need to keep hold of houses and cars. Such things are only useful to charge massive interest on and to parcel out packages
Of same to the world wide investment markets.
OPEN and CLOSE every EYE inside the CLOCK-TOWER watching EYE of the always present now.
TIME has come to a complete stop.
HISTORY has become a myth, fodder for digital design.
NOWNOWNOW:::
BINARY CITIES RISING, christening the always {n o w}
NOW IS JUST THE WORD REWRITTEN NOW
DIGITAL PAGES APPEAR INSIDE
THE BOOK OF NIGHT.
(It has begun, it is always beginning to appear just as we disintegrate our souls fall into the voided not to be avoided intestate commerce of interstate holographic incommensurate estimate spheres of suspect influence, the confluence of affluence, of sick effluence THE VIRUS WORD, THE CADENZA CABINET CAPO where the cleansing FLUS, the flues the the foolish tools of State of lost soul fools tools bait the mewling masses rolling rippling tide, Implied, implicit, complicit solicit state of disrepair the relative fate of DESPAIR, the hair of prophet poets burning forever in seals set before the world began the embryonic demonic angelic tonic also ran dig it MAN ! there residing alongside abiding the war of late lives for gives damns and dies retries hiding INSIDE THE BOOK OF NIGHT)
It Shall begin anew, the blithering beheaded hydra beast
Screaming with vacant moonscape eyes
Hurling base epithets at the Sun
Salamandering rank slander cheap as onion thistle
As swiftly withered.
Who shall walk upright in these days to come
Chanting the Word that is and is not NOW
All that once began to fall apart, the threads
Waiting to be woven, reawakened into NEW
Deeds of daring THOUGHT too aware inside
The moiling dark, writing lines that rise to Light
Forms that break the locks which bind
THE BOOK OF NIGHT .
March 2020
Let us continue
Within Cycles:
Something ancient in the Hall face skin pulled too plastic tight
Like a curious riddle burning in The Book Of Night
Another figure lurks behind to hold the zombie puppet still
An angel's breath is all it takes to breathe in darkness crass and chill
Where lost moths flock unto the disingenuous fluttering muck
If lightning hit the world in the eye with colorless dye if thunderstruck
An ectoplasmic trick to shuck the shills a ghostly wail of whippoorwills
A tower of money bowing to idols of gold buys crowds of dreamers bought and sold
For an ancient zombie formed of crepe and spit stalks the halls where hails hit
So sacrosanct so dinosaur so in the tank that which was and is no more
Another figure lurks behind to pull his strings to draw the blinds
Whoever knows what is there to find the heartbeat slows the machine grinds
The flesh to flower the bones to meal unholy power inane surreal
Who covets this power, who made this deal?
Who shall heed the vast marble footfalls of such
A Shibboleth ? Clamorous diatribes ranting senile
Billboard slogans of mutilated innocence be damned by inverted promises
Tinsel town crosses a bloody gown worn by all the latest stock exchange reel crime grimy two timey bosses,
Who stole thee
Dressers father who is your mommie dearest confessors ?
Wearing holey sepulchers like bone dry death valley dark deals back alley
Priests of deserted masses spiel das glocken is real gone man daddio cat
Who is there to read the sideways worded scripted blank oblique opaque insight
Driven mad for lack of anything meaningful to consume
Forced into the same old new version of someone else's absurd costume
Sucked off into an overwhelming subverted banality by all appearances of Might
One be made completely unaware of what is there but Nothing only The Book Of Night;
Where is this US Now is not now,
Proposals March like syncopated mice in furrowing mazes of mirror crazes
Reflecting suspecting hectoring heroes receive harrowing infusions
OF That Which IS What Above ?
All of at Once bOth rising and fAlling down high unto the oNe that is none that is you too much to do to be at one both each and none undone into.
The closed seals opening eyes closing pry shut posing nothing but roses scorn growing down worlds words just posing as,
Enter into This World as what is there to see, another hidden door inside another set of Eyes.
Eyes of This Creature that shall go unnamed rising horribly awfully inverted accursed
beastly thing with 6 heads rising with unending lying tongues from a filth ridden sewer rains stormy drains melting into thE onE lost sEa,
Come swim here and see the UnHwolly See see see mE whim and dher and ahim
Some weal of Pow pow Power Full of wooly Mammon TH towering plynths
Synthee sizer wisenheimer climayte tizers.
Thee wHo controls the Disease of Poper elations poor poor elations rEigns in All tHings over clueless nAtions.
So go see who that cat what rises uP too dark 4 light 2 break in some palace coup oh whoo whoo whoo 6 wrong x right
Come bE in zoo to skin E might wearing pose dank utter rose to pear leaf who knows this page in pen script line waters under flows The Book Of Night .
Unders4as Overthrees sEe there iS a deepEr eVil lurking within as old as may be asleep or waking always working to be taking what is given gradually away.
This is a taken, this is a given, these are the faces, voices, tones of words written and spoken like tokens broken upon some infernal celestial 3rd i wheel, it is and is not that which is commonly understood to be real real real is really reeling and wheeling so periodically so episodically dealing the Apple Spore spawns rotten Cores of tHought wE ought to think of sOmEthing other than tHis eVil Man of Earthly spins our oRigins and over in a moment think Memory is but a forgotten space between the wOrdly wordy green was ever trembling threading reading and reading through thin and thick as volumes of sulphourous brickety brick omnipresently spreading onyx vestibules of Light some vacuum beast with six horrendouys =h=o=r=n=s=HeaDing whO goes to thumb their fingers numbly burning through The Book Of Night
Faux images burning pages glue into smoky emerald eyes seeing through ages and raging fools staging chicken coop coups stimulating concoctions of stupid soup sue you too will never learn that which is not available for common natural study buddy old pal with complexions lost connexxions so ruddy rat the household cats and dogs wearing mirror masks to snout their grog.
Someone trapped in a mirror in a dark chandelier closet gets a bright idea from God only even cannot guess where.
Suppose,
Go, go to Cut exist in Paste, Fold In The Fold Out Words aka Images So
Smash the control images
Smash the control machinery
Destroy All Moorlocks
Remember H.G. Wells
This is a Social Fictive Narration run amok drunk on Power/Money/Influence/Corrupt demigods legislating cultural myths.
Smashing Everything Complete Disintegration.
Cocontaminant Moloch rising from sixth sense Seas seizing purple breath dragon thoughts coming soon to a theater of thee absurd Word in maniacal manacles / psuedo suited mannequins flashing nouveau guillotine ties hairless wearing sloganeering domineering All The little people out there Hear hear, the Neo Cortoid is now in Session/Judge Not that you be not period/as though One never were even there/Anywhere Home?
Follow Suit
Something sad with thirteen eyes
Broken Sun and Moon crashing cascade skies
Tinsel atmosphere for sale cashing lock and key
Prison skin and bone drawn in line cashing time to die
Evil wears a suit and tie
Something happens below the heads
Dreamers dying for no reasons other than
Orb shrinking, cracking ovals, spheres in fade
Wonders backing who got paid
Meet Disconnect
The streets all meet and disconnect
Veiled by digital elliptic omnipresent eyes
Rustling crackle of dry sheets city ablaze with tombs
Pentagram mirrors drawing crowds to crucifix skyscraper idols
Skeletal emojis appear goo goo faces melt into gas lights
Stretch out hands for sacrament of bread liver eating crows
Flocking violently clogging screens blocking heavens ceiling unscene
Glorious opposites of Obscene citizens of a darkness never right
Inner face where we race and wreck
The streets all meet and disconnect
On a tiny block place on or the other on top or bottom
Middle of here or nowhere is there
When buzzards eat other buzzards
While hypnotizing pigeons that hang muted upon the deaf dumb air
Locked down in mirror cages bars made of buzz words
Fingerprinted by lab coat wearing one world technicians
Test tube tales old as sin with a rank musty smell of lies
Where spirits flock around an inverse pyramid of darkness faced
With some meaningless plot believe it or not who knows
It's like a galaxy of brightly burning solar systems circling a black hole drain
Does anyone have a prayer what is there any place to call home at last
The missing parts appear the stage is lit looking every bit as though the die were cast,
Who watches
Locked down in mirror cages made of buzz words
When buzzards eat other buzzards
In the movie times everyone is born with some kind of ticket to see the show
Encrypted figures grow into shadow forms
Assume clothes of popular religions those old hypnotic stones
Orgies of political pornography promise fatal gratifications for all
Tomorrows lies were today's promises that's the formula for successful death
Life begins with breath free with a little catch behind the curtain in the back
Awful bent and twisted features play on and on flames flicker in and out
Crimson frames melting with the names of those that hid their games of chance
Eyes are frozen facts information interacts and grabs power and control
In the movie times
Encrypted into shadow forms
On the other side of the glass
Where there is no one else to ask
What is what or who is who
This is not the thing to do
Where what has been shall come to pass
That is first the worst is last
No one is given a free pass
On the other side of the glass
Mirrors break into fragments of light
Like a monstrous chalkboard screaming night
Where huge crowds gather blank en masse
Such words were spoken and actions act
Surrealism lived like artifact
On the other side of the glass
Locked behind a hidden door unseen
Someone writes your name upon a screen
Where what has been shall come to pass
Where there is no one else to ask
On the other side of the glass
Chip
......chip
............chip
Away at the world one lives in
A chip at a time
Chipping away the time one is in . . .
Chips in the plane
Chips in the brains
Bars on the wrist
Codes in a twist . . .
.............chip
......chip
Chip.
Those at the top do as they will
Take and make what they wish from positions of power
Like a panderer preaches
Like some devious leaches
Caught up in nets too dark to see or know
Stomp all over the little fish below
Too low to really care about
Just commodities
Some human oddities
Masses radar into blip
Incline radius doppler slip
Chip
.......chip
.............chip
Flame tip frozen eyes
Ice lens covers all spaces in between
Thoughts spin inside the iris thins and thickens so
Camera clicks frame within frames stutter steps go
Nowhere fast and slow ways
Always on, say Oh
always on . . .
Appendages of The Beast transform throughout Time
Different bodies, faces, voices speaking of : : : : : :
Empty poison promises painting Darkness as Light,
Even on a virtual stage nothing changes place
Making believe playing dangerous games with Reality
Only hoping for nothing more than to plant
Traps of Deception for all to fall into
Again and again : : : : : :
What is the number there ? ? ? ? ? ?
What leaves a mark mark mark mark mark mark
?
Faces in Code
Bodies in Code
Voices in Code
Speaking speaking speaking speaking speaking speaking
Of
Appendages of The One Big Lie.
Who is behind who
No one knows who knows,
Time folds flat upon the face of self
Intrinsic q]quintessence invisible inversion
Resumes
In secret files
Cross reference etiolate
Light tendrils uproot ipso de facto obverse
Impenetrable, impervious Motion dissolves
Emptying an endless what
Do I know
Nothing. Plain
A wave of Will and breaking water
Take the World overcomes
Words written in a silent book
The page a shadow fading into fire
So far to See the Way is woven
Strands separate only bound by
Nothing Is yet complete
Making things still and ever after
A wave of will and breaking water
a shadow fading n2 fire
The cause is under investigation
The investigation is under investigation
The fire is on fire and fading into n2
Shadow falling over all and into fire
Holo
Buy a lie
The price is high
Like freedom of living
Or never forgiving
Believe what is before your eyes
Read into it something with meaning
But it's still only a bought and paid for script
Written by committee
Characters posed by poison pens
Swirling shadows flutter in the camera lens
Dark gravitational pulls the light inside out
Words are uttered like dying gasps for air
Who is there?
Terminal Pomposity
Some odd mad sign nailed to the floor
Eating through doors of perception
No one gets to raise objection
Objectivity is a sin
Media Cancer on the march again
Moving mouths with words to say
They know so much about so little
Just how they're paid is not a riddle
The bosses must approve the script
And all the lines over which are tripped
Any opponent to the party line must be ripped to shreds
Listen away as the real news goes over our heads
Everyone seems to have the answer
Reading from teleprompters feeding Media Cancer
This side good, that side bad
No in between to spread the blame
Just identity and poison fame
Nothing real just chaos and sound
What goes around must come around
With no real question no real answer
Just empty words
Media Cancer
Once I saw the mad dream within a rectilinear screen
Tragic sad scenes of sick power and control run amok
Confused masses of captive populace in absolute shock left at a loss
For just what to do about anything of real import
Just wailing inside the perimeters of what barriers allowed to be
I saw just what the blind may never see
It was the bottomless pit of one big lie that hides in between
Endless lines were circling back upon themselves front to back
Destroying each other for no good reason, petty, small and mean
Once I saw the mad dream within, a rectilinear screen
Media Cancer
Just empty words
No real question.
No ?
It's debatable.
What is ?
Anything
You say will be
Held up to an inverse tarnished silver mirror club of absurdium
Oh that is absurd
Surely you debate in jest kind knight of Templar plated falsehoods
Yes Sirrah
Something on Earth is taking over tonight
Taking away what is free, what is right
Stealing your thoughts and dreams like a blight
Taking away all you see with the light
Something unholy, arcane and abysmal
Speaking of wholly profane and so dismal
Mirrors are melting away into cracks
Something following today on your tracks
Taking away all you see with the light
Stealing your thoughts and dreams like a blight
Taking away what is free, what is right
Something on Earth is taking over tonight
Now a little something from our worthy sponsors, locked up in this case
You missed it.
Waxen faced corrupt demigods
The skin pulled tight across
Tight as glass across
The lying face
The double face
An inverse place of schemata
Big wads of word are flouted
Big ideas heard and touted
Electronic data is the real god behind the false faced ads
The fresh cake new editions the old school fake politicians
Intend to sell corn to the deaf, dumb masses
The absolutely blind classes always in session
Hollywood gimbals merrily about fractured camera lenses
Shabbily manufactured fads sold out under false pretenses
An inverse place of schemata
The double face
The lying face
Tight as glass across
Waxen faced corrupt demagogues
Sinking into a losing sea where no one is fated to win
Why is the world this way
The world is the world is the world
Seems destined to always spin
Weaving circles within circles weaving riches and sin
Poor souls fall to savage fools that feed upon fear
Time makes puzzles of pieces of lost lives
Who makes the rules, who says so
About what and who survives
So much is said
Causing pain such lies
Thrive like weeds in a dark, crazed garden
Where no one walks together, hearts harden
Where an ancient, monstrous worm slithers 'round the brains
Where images of Eden circles into forever night and something drains
To be never seen again
Sinking into a losing sea where no one is fated to win
When all lines are official
Told what to think, what to ask
Injections become Holy Sacrament
Federal Power the New Testament
Everyone wears a mask,
Why is this, you have to ask?
When Now is not now
And Then Never Was
Where is This ?
Where is this
And then never was
When now is not now
Why is this, you have to ask.
Everyone wears a mask,
Federal Power the New Testament
Injections become Holy Sacrament
Told what to think, what to ask
When all lines are official
Behold the glory that was Rome
Possessed effigies embalmed with wealth and power pose
Choking millions in golden robes, crumbling hopes to ruin
Broken all the old roads, weathered fast and overgrown
Winter coliseums play to empty mobs in cold wind against gray skies
Behold the glory all consuming, the keys that lock all roads and doors
Decapitated behind digital barricades, absorbed by mockery of an eternal truth
Question asleep in arboreal winter,
How bad is good, how good is evil ?
No more belief in History
No more faith, only imagery to worship
Shell and self assumption consume like rampant flames the world is and
Changes frame, burns in purple pages, rage and policy
Blithering geriatric inanities Corpse Headed Marionette approaches the podium
Drooling corruption from a cess pit soul
Staring into dead air with blank teleprompter eyes,
Flickering a sick lizard tongue just behind dark curtained wings
Some lethal shadow form waits for his death
Climaxing with the promise of power and ascension to a crumbling throne
Of mythic fear and awesome propaganda smear
Corpse Head moves mouth, stretches withered lips tight across
National Screen
Something Obscene
Controls the controls
So low and mean
Ing gets lost in the words that drip like lime or alkaline veins
Or a forest of insects and poisonous spiders weaving preposterous skeins
To choke out Light and Breath,
Behold The Corpse Headed Marionette
Lock step dysfunctional dystopia
Mock it ad hoc it is more or less what to suspect
A back door a back road
The army of hacks who wrote The Bar Code
On the backs of our neck ?
Maybe it's The Nameless One
Could be the number
2x3
2x3
2x3
Will the sequel be coequal
Will the prequel vanish phist
Into air that is not there
Into some digitally entranced silver mist
Rabble bone and heathen moan and rage
Raising rotten Kings amidst a scripted virus
Great god Osiris to thee we pray
Give us what you want to give
Pyramids of criminal schemes
Propaganda nepotism dreams for one
And all we get is a little bit of It
Mock it ad hoc it is
More or less suspect
Lock step dysfunctional dystopia
In the province of powers and portents
Winged craven creatures of the air
For all purposes outside and intents
Even if no one else is there
Watching mirror eyes kiss camera souls
Calypso cut to paper faces digital facsimiles of light
Where to put the proper places as we fall completely into Night
There everyone is locked into roles
Even if no one else is there
For all purposes outside and intents
Winged craven creatures of the air
In the province of powers and portents
When it's all over but the crying, laugh
Worlds spinning in a cosmic puzzle, pieces mismatch
Catch the latest show help the network grow to monstrous proportions
Warp dimensional distortions glow so large, so small
Stand up on principle, close your eyes, see it all
Be prepared to rise and fall,
Down the rabbit hole the days are dancing go away to stay to say
So long Hollywood see you soon get out somewhere the Sun and Moon
Shall be waiting always as before you see now you don't
Me am not I anymore who won't know just what to say
Just turn and write inside the the Light
Time to go alone, Outside the Night
The Camera Eye Is Always On and on and on . . .
Always on and burning my eyes reading the pages written in
The Book Of Night
It never ends
Hearken in chants of Darkness saying thus these things:
L.amp Shade stands on the stage
Waxen faced effigy
Reading of tragedy
Forgets to turn a page
Eyes of glassy age
Words of practiced decades mouthing the pit
Something suspiciously dark comes from it
An all inclusive separation from the pyramid tip
An eye on high to raise the toll to lay you low
That such a dim bulb should shine the lie to swallow
As tubers fester inchoate pagan rituals and rites display
The digital hubbub shaves the time with more to follow
Locking all in a cage
Lamp Shade stands on the stage
Saying the scripted words behind the scenes of Death and Money
The unsaid word the sleight inferred . . .
Who died and left you God ?
Your lies just make me nod
I don't like the crap you sell
On the China carousel
The Authority some people wield
Weapons used to scare to make me yield
My personal preferences to a fictional greater good
In point of fact references deliberately misunderstood
The way you make me sick to make me well
Unholy fake, I hate the crap you sell
In a vast hypnotic trance
We are calling you to dance
Do not mind those figures secluded
Just follow suit to what's alluded
Worship service in Chaos Church
Where the hideous zombies lurch
Perhaps they feast on souls for lunch
Maybe steal from us, have a hunch
Never peer inside the mirror dim
The blinding truth is too hard to see
Behold the Night breaking as we skim
From page to page falling endlessly
Devils dancing in blank darkness
Chanting, brewing fields of rye and rue
Smiling baldly at sheer madness
Panting backwards codes of dye and blue
Clouds forming overhead, demons fall like rain
Waking up living dead, kill us all again
Devils dancing in blank darkness
Smiling baldly at sheer madness
Just a wink at crime time to ignore
Nothing much to matter anymore
Bruised and broken moments killing Light
Letters written in The Book Of Night
Clothed in a cancerous confusion of naked power
Heaven holds a mirror Up
Do you not see ?
Kingdoms grow
Glow and crumble
Numbers tumble
Down they spiral
Something viral
Attacks a massive screen of Light
Children murdering in the Night
Far below,
Watch the ancient puppets play out roles as old as dust again
Wait inside yourself with someone else, pray if you must for rain,
Do you not see ?
Heaven holds a mirror Up
Clothed in a cancerous confusion of naked power
There is
No memory of Before
No awareness of Now
Only an incessant Sound droning on and on
A loud deaf tone crashing noise
Dimensions folding out and in again
Puckered figures cut from fabrics of shadow
Push themselves forward in dingy swathes of Light
Then elapse and fade back into the Nothingness
From which they came,
No Memory of before
There is
No awareness of Now
Generated in pixels driven by electricity and avarice
Avatar politicians preach the inverse reach into
Pockets of mockery in the violence of despair
Deafening silence dances with death angels
Cacaphonous choirs drowning in inarticulate desires
The implicit fit of force hits in the face of common sense
Drowned in place of porous dense decline
Underway and undermine the vast ongoing play
Give it all back while taking everything away okay
Swallow again the daily dose of far and close underlined very nice
Generated in pixels driven by electricity and avarice
Waiting for all the old monsters to die
It always takes too long
New ones have hatched to take the place
Of what was always nothing more
Than mortal frailty at best and worst
NOW nothing more than Digital Din drones on and on
Damping out any hope of natural air
Like vast hives of insect life linked by the honey
Of info dope
Casting off into what is forever unknown
Daily digging out our eyes with the fingers of past ghosts
Screams in heart and soul dying
It always takes too long
Waiting for all the old monsters to die
{meanwhilst,and eye do sea mean}
The ancient Hag Queen of Gomorrah sits upon Pentagram Hill
Her face a ridgid plastic mask of Corruption Lies Filthy deeds
Commissioned by her Hagness, carried out by jelly fish minions in Darkness,
Nearing the end of worldly power she utters curse prayers for more time
More days, weeks, months and years to weild the Sceptre of Deception
To suck the life blood from all whom labor in earnest and with good will
Her shrivel lemon soul shrieks in wrath at any hint of truth or honor
One task she sets, one conquering rune devised in back rooms
In the electronic cities of numbers in the chemical factories of Control
One accursed task before the Holy Sun should burn her wretched corpse
To hell ridden cinders, dust unto dust,
The Orange Troll King must be brought to kneel
Before her throne on Pentagram Hill {::}An antique clown wears the crown in the House of the Dead
Circus cronies circle the drain in cars tiny and far away
Concerned crowds cluster around screens hypnotic blue and cold
Words are tattooed into thought with icicle pens
A great poet once wrote,
1."Science and Patience, Retribution is sure."
Now is the time of thunderous silence and poisoned light
Ghost rooms full of screaming staircases that lead to nothing
Uncounted hosts welcoming guests to the House of the Dead
Where inverted pyramids suck the lifeblood from lifeforms lost
Figures vaguely whirling in states of vacuum trance
Find a faceless mirror in this place of endless error
Something dark appears unknown reasons remain unsaid
An antique clown wears the crown in the House of the DeadRust from a broken kingdom penetrates the subjects pores
An ancient cage disintegrates between the bars eyes peering
Fingerless hands, armless hands reaching behind to scratch the sores
Trust in a spoken language unseen words beyond hearing
Limned against a raging skyline, burning panoramas
Skimmed like helpless fish intertwine lost amidst such dramas
Speech flounders on polluted shores, choked in plastic and sand
Sleep lies in wait, dying on the vine, to fail to understand
Oligarchal genocide
All there is to live, sleep, eat, breathe
Die inside some summer doorway fast
As thought and twice as alone,
Oligarchy no malarkey
Coincidental rhyme
Like another stitch in time
Only saves a certain nine
X nine
In the open cannot hide
From
.......... ........
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 1365 times
Written on 2013-04-18 at 01:12
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
And prophets shall be heard in those days, crying out in the digital wilderness.
They shall be heard and yet not heard.
Book Of Night
[the camera eye is always on]something grows up in place of what was there
(not so long ago).
I pledge to increase my personal fortune many times over by abusing the power and influence I will gain from being elected to this office.
(also, "Approve This Message.")
cannot see what I once saw
fearful the film is growing dim
fearful fits expire as they appear on film growing,
conning the spans, groaning the air, growing the dim
all the festive fields of green gaping, yawning joy
fearful films . The growing d I m,
grim are the tides that reap the shore
taking all sides and so much more.
THE CAM ER A FOLLOWS EVERYWHERE (without [movement¬]
this is one and all con strained through synchronous series .OF. . ..
( in teasingly cre a sing ly [¬])
Cease with me now, come all and ONE and seize.
.
bandit banks heap the houses and cars in piles
wolves with backwards jaws bite inside out
working the wireless transfers with bloodied furs
has there ever been such a lot of soulless curs
/the underground towers are written everywhere and anyhow
anyone at up for encodes digital lists scroll specifics?
at the cost of hard- bitten yah der furry firs (sic)@ frosteseums!
Satanic imps shoveling human forms into inferno machines
in each and every face vacant sneers of empty mindless doom
torment is a by product of profit and gain moving forward
Pushing us all toward the tragic, inevitable historic drain
In the glass and steel BLOCS there are M E N [n] POWERFUL SUITS
of close of course off course is their recourse on course to burn
The urn returns x 2x4[] this is how we s p e l l. . , WELLOFDREAMS;
"We wear these savvy suits monsieur, please do not apprehend the closest...digital...pardon us our abrupt of intrusion suit...suit..
.suit..Please to follow unlined of suitability for fitting digital
FORM NOW, ( it is all now ).
We ask to tell you and do without unnecessary understanding IT.
pro-tem, form you understand our speakers may wireless this is weigh beyond
simple deus incarnate, {throne prehensile}.
going backwards and downwards, inwards into these blank, burnt words
(oh heavenly kingdoms we the children wandering in ragged circles
looking for the eternally promised gifts and priZes
lift...loft..lift our lips in pointless praise of puerile Product
the squashed and rotten reduction mad production of ONE MONUMENTALLY ARCANE SCHEME)
WHO SHALL BE? THE FATHER . THE LONG LOST GHOSTS OF THE GARDEN WHO
SHALL RETURN MY ME TO ME MY BROTHER...?
[!] the ghosts of Baudelaire and Rimbaud appear to me at odd moments
Reading their poems to me from a great black book bound in flames of lavender violet scrolls,
pages of ancient leather wings each headed with this title ' The Book Of Night'.
There are no real issues, my hosts proclaim. In voices from beyond the violet heavens
it seems I hear them say. There is only the ONE ENERGY OF NOW. All the many forms displaced
matter articulate animate and in.
pointless grain in an infinite surrounding sea star glow
what lies centre all this burn
edge after end after edge after another end
we come to here_ they tell me such terrifying things...
we come with fire and time and voices speaking words,
with the voices of blind prophets who have become all seeing
In a book illustrated with the stolen energy of dying (worlds)
This was my cradle primer, how I cut the milk from baby teeth-
lying still with a mouth stuffed with ruses and raises for yourselves
proclaim the infernal realm is yours to own and ruin
what in the blasted name of sanctimonious, unholy Hell is the matter
someone, anyone know how such a rabid state of affairs developed?
rather unfortunate lot the masses salivate at any mention of product
delicious symbols crop the pulsating brainfields with bogus seeds of worthless
manufactories/plan a plant make a belt take some work
home to play with ideas can feel like freedom strange turn of events
take the bait schools of who Man yea you Man, you know the kind
of kin I mean???
cannot be what has not been_
all the nerves in the body connect to the brain I think
there bit for the face of odd where no I[or is there an eye for an I so the sayless pay]
More tender for the crushing bituminous litters/ binary held how high or hell low
do the rushing torments row to sweep all into aside the current and temporal nodes disguised codes of being.
DIAMOND D I A M O N D D. I. A. M. O. N. D
precious as are things to possess is to be possessed by the process
of making/selling/buying/owning/being/possessions/::d::i::a::m::o::n::d::/
i dam on d
ma
don id
din a dom.
cannot buy what I once bought or spend what is not there to end-
all the vibrating dots in fields of sense spent senseless spend senselessly,
amputated fingers reach for the dotted pen...the pinned
wings are plucked in the frenzied fanfare with truth to burn to death.
'Well now let me think, (.the furious cap of cognition is copiously applied at this p.o.I.n.t in time,
pointy prickly pointed time. Pen the pinned wings are for sale to the plucked...pluck the plucking pluckers to no end.
Although there may appear to be no end to spend it will at some point
cease.
Cease when the numbers invert and explode tiny fantastic sums of anti-matter. Schemes of gigantic fraud.
Yea and verily a veritable plague of biblical frauds is visited upon the blind, lying badlands.
Distortion is the norm in such times, fantastic nightmare shapes appear in sick, leering poses
scattered about the fiscal landscape.
This one a huge, monumental building of furious gold, emitting Hellish heat
but the death head door to touch is an infernal cold.
And here there is a mountain shaped like the mouth of some mythic beast
roaring hymns to black, blank oblivion, feeding upon the mute, massive screams of the inarticulate hordes.
They that have been driven like numbed yet anxious cattle from pillar to post.
They may have been dead for some time by now, the only energy remaining
being the fictitious momentum of savage gravity.
Remains, disparate concentrations of poor bought and sold focus. Who and what are these generations
trapped into ever increasing cycles of abandon all hopelessness.
It is as if THE WORD had been made flesh and ever after abandoned to fight it out against the relative vast
with the sly, quick fox jumping circles all about the unfortunately lazy brown dog.
And gGod if you happen to be paying attention and are interested in the Human Messpent
along with the historically unending Plague of Frauds. What is the value of a human life
or any life versus collections of things? What are these things that grow their OWN machines
to change the sameness of light and time into something too appalling to characterize through the medium of WORDS.
But I am and am not of THE WORD...says I am conceived yet I am not
come into complete and utter being,(not yet...be still a while inside the inmost IN!) and if I ever am to become
the being of original WORD:: it shall be inviolable and no longer subject to such interpretation
A worldwide plague of fraudulent fraudlings invariably insist without ceasing upon enforcing
in any and every foul unfair unweigh impossibly possible.
Surely there must exist worlds other than this of SPEND TO MAKE RICH THE FRAUDS AND IMPOVERISH THE GLOBE...
what other worlds support such sick twisted parasitic symbiosis???
Market Place? Financial Capital? Mark it world run by Fraud for the benefit of the twisted, sick fraudulent logic of mad midget souls
seeking to control the roaring worldly tides of temporal, material power in order to harness the Wealth Beast,
(yea and verily even that abomination which has crawled from the sea bearing six abominable horns of putrid gold
upon a head in the shape and form of that greatest of all false and-fallen cities)!!
It is in the distortion melee of such concussive moments of sheer neural revelation
that I seem to bear the voices of Rimbaud and Baudelaire like a yoke of shimmering violet fire,
pulling through the soulless boulevards of that hateful Metropole this engine spirit of not to be degenerated WORD...
THIS BOOK OF NIGHT!!
Unsay the THE WORD and be unsaid SEE and become unseen. Be one in a world that always was and has yet to be
a thought that has never been.
Taken away into oneself pieces of whole fragments imprinted each particle with the letters of the thought that is yet is not,
(NAME) the hidden places that sleep screaming seas of silence thrash in mad, wild throes of longing,
longing to be conceived to be born to receive the gift of (KEYS)
Cannot say what I once said
No longer focus beyond the immediate burning pages write
non sentient dots of transfinite growing closer to a part
of self of our selves and the creation of thinking, (BEING)
do not know...do not say...do not think...
let the dots be the compositions...selves come into being...
The world has grown blank with being,
The great everything to everyone, the new the latest the best deal
some incredible experience awaits the external being a symbolic
Object of the randomly tumultuous experience of the massive dive inwards
IN WORDS.
The you that waits with a others eyes transfixed same sight tricked
again monuments immemorially objected texts/cut/recut/re/0/cur/do
not WHOLE, is not to BE whole in any static sense STATE IS STATE.
I am smitten eyes forever returning to that unreal CITY of blood, dirt
smeared with the bleary prayers of the crushingly oppressed.
Crying out from underneath the hypnotic trance of this accursed gift given me to bear in any weathers
this VIOLET YOKE of WORD...shhh
Such words are murderous to the DAYS and may only be repeated in dead and silent hours written in devils hand
repeated in strangling angelic torturous labors (black winged leathern bound) within THE BOOK OF NIGHT
Surely as The Night approaches and finally must reach and overrun every seawall of the soul,
assuredly it is THE INFERNAL HAND which grasps in such an icy gripping vise all the lying intricate machinery
running the World to an exhausted and futile DEATH#
'take all the others...' the last lament of burnt, scarred lungs..wheezing desperate prayers from the backs of ghostly shelves/
libraries of burning w o r d s...world stripped of all wardrobe of meaning without context or substructure.
Open your mouths to speak and they are closed, rub your lips to feel the taste of HANDS and yes! they are bound to be gone.
THE SACRIFICIAL HANDS
Bound and tied to be found wandering smitten eyes and poisoned hearts and minds and souls...severely, sorely tested and tried...
YOU are EACH and in ALL terribly bound between these burnt and smoking chary covers.
.lost hands and feet and eyeless futile rages...
BOUND to lose the will to see yourselves as SELF (less) BEING cast en mass into the fields of fitfully burning pages..
.spirits gnashing and wailing tearing at the sickly luminous columnar spine that composes
this never-ending torment of horrible madness that is THE BOOK OF NIGHT
Sometimes the cracked and dried ink eternally curling and peeling from those infernal roaring pages.
..fractal dots dumbly reflecting human geographies of the continually incinerating (W)hole...assume a guise of
FACES¬ falsely animated organs of HUMAN EXPRESSION...repeating quasi-religious phrases of PROMISE.
..faces with empty holes of void for mouths and voices exhaling a stench of rotten pitch and repetitious
robotic versions of THE PRIMAL UN ORIGINAL LIE
False versions of THE DIVINE METIER/devouring/ever more minute increments of hallucinating TIME...
I can no longer hear such voices without seeing that awful looming sky
and the mindless evil PROSTITUTION OF THE WORD!!!
constantly and wrongly misappropriated to serve those whom exist as SLAVES OF THE STATE.
..misrepresenting the actual purpose of their ACTING and being to make perpetual the temporal bondage of all
peoples and energies to that which is inherently and intrinsically and eternally utterly
FALSE‚ LIES‚ between the AGES of THE BOOK OF NIGHT
Is this why the ancients prayed to fractious deities existing in their
tempestuous paradox of peace while perpetual war and devastation rages
amongst the peoples of poignantly fragile incredibly cowardly endlessly brave, limited infinite sphere?
I may no longer ponder such numbing incertitudes!.
hateful shackles of iron slow poison poised to drop
like monumental anchoring deities of some before known FALL
as am I into the gaping ends of the world, mote amongst the
voice of torrents of torments pleading for yet another quotient of
THE MYSTIC DAILY BREAD.
PARADOX OF SENSES
EVERYTHING OF WHICH SENSE IS MADE RENDERS SENSELESS.
THAT WHICH IS. DOES. MAKES. OR. CREATES. BUILDS. DISPLAYS. SELLS.
MASS PROFITS INIMICAL IN MATHEMATICS OF MISLABELED DEVASTATION.
BLAKE...BAUDELAIRE..RIMBAUD...
such poetic luminaries as these THREE!!!
come to me in visions as monstrous seas of SLEEP sweep the upturned
graves of dead and bygone ages across my burning brow...
"follow in the wake of sacred lights" they say. The world will be devoured by packs of ravenous,
slavering jackals soon as not. Open too
Your voice in concert with celestial voids for surely as we speak, shalt not the heavens hear?"
Such laudable company as yon laurel crowned KINGS OF INIQUITY AGAINST THEE SICK'NING CROWNE.
..beckon me to follow in an ARCANE ART'S written writhe and wise, flying over the OLD DRAGON'S stench,
the horrific bellowing sulphur and any and every humanly inconceivable angle of inhumane retribution
such celestial anathema as this abomination of peoples, cultures, every level of THE MYTH we know as the THE WORLD does
forever without ceasing insist upon our apparent being.
An uncertain somnambulant code bars the hands and eyes of the common citizen of THE STATE
SOME ONE...SOME THINGS...reaching with our ownerless hands to pick the produce of blood and
flesh and souls...THIS PREYS ON THE HUMAN SPIRIT!
Damnable fiends of that always PERIPHERAL INFERNO...does a higher intelligence direct the actions
of such conniving legions of misery? If so, what is their pay? What possible compensatory package
could be worth all the ransacking of every civilization ( euphemistically speaking )
that exist and have ever existed in this globe in this sphere in each and every mind and soul that has ever drawn breath,
had a thought to share, felt love, aspired to dream. Only to be funneled into the visible and invisible
channels of that hateful stone and iron machine which forever chews the higher wishes for ALL into reconstituted
shreds of tortured matter to become the objectified OBJECT OF PROFANE SELF SERVING LUST for the select slaves
whom serve that EVIL BALD LYING FACE
OF EARTHLY POWER.
Who writes the binary chains to supply such a code? Let us listen to the rain ghosts and evanescent spirits
such as are dreams locked within the memory of ancient sentinel trees,
The first waters and ambrosial airs. What and who was and is this UN NAMABLE THING that came to
be that which is the undoing of all that is right and fair?
Your shoulders if I may dear friends, the burden of THIS VIOLET YOKE grows with every word and
yet I would speak of these matters and in such breaths as may appear only wishing for everyone's
release and the soul to be freed from the
Purgatorial Fires unceasing binding and dreading us all between the
beastly pages of THE BOOK OF NIGHT...
The extraordinary shall become common place
Outrage and Shock everyday news
Throngs and Mobs One Huge Scream of Mute Voice
FOOD SHELTER TRANSPORTATION CLOTHING RECREATION
MEDICINAL THERAPIES
ARCHETYPAL TEMPLES STACKED TO HEAVEN WITH BRAZEN IDOLS!
WORSHIP PROFANE OBJECTS WEIGHTLESS GHOSTS
DRIFT IN HEAVY SPIRALS INTO NEGATIVE SPACE.
Something waits to code the MARK MADE
the human face turning inwards blind features
spinning like THE WORLD no longer recognizable
existing only in an ever absent now ...WE SPEAK
Paying back the poisoned lightning, the stolen value of THUNDER
becomes only more deafening as we listen with interest on rented ears
bound utterly to the alien MIND that is owned by all we owe
those dark POWERS . THE . PRINCIPALITIES. THRONES .
cracks the foundations of THEE OLDE CLOCKTOWER .
All shall cry wildly in the darkness
waving seas of mad flags . Calling the names of false gods
In sad and awful facsimiles of praise and worship echoes
sacrificing the vacuum of THOUGHT
ALTARS OF NOTHINGNESS . . .
Finding branded on every tongue the WORDS
WRITTEN IN THE BOOK OF NIGHT .
so where's the profit in mass disenfranchisement ?
Goes back so far into the deep dark origins of human being...
back so far, far too far to see from shining sea to the current
practice of digitally mining the more finite aspects of infinity,
WHERE IS THE PROFIT PEOPLE?????
Oh say CAN YOU SEE
BY THE PROFITS WE SEIZE
WHAT SO BALDLY WE SOLD
LIKE THE TWILIGHTS MAD GLEAMING
AND THE CROCK IT'S NOT FAIR
AND THE MOCKS INSINCERE
RAVE GOOF THROUGH THE BLIGHT
THAT OUR DRAG WAS STILL TEAR
OKAY DOES THAT CAR MANGLED BLADDER VET CRAVE
O'ER THE LAND OF THE FEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
AND THE GNOME OF THE CAVEEEEEEEEEEEEE
;;;;;;;;;7$6
They have transmuted the idea of STATE
(the very idea)(of)(such a thing)
Our missing FATHER dear MISSION Mother
ABZENTED wheregone the PLANE HAS FLED.
in parentis loci in prima facia...
THIS IS THE IDEA.?
They come to me through the fields of EYE
through grounds of see less SEAS
swimming turbulences of air rivers of SKY
doubtlessly unaccountable they come seeking blind wings
To bear each unbearable brazen stamp they rear and ramp
In their teeming muddled millions screaming with dreaming
Ears they arrive and depart awash and dried in the sensational
holding forth their nameless hands as though to beg a gift
Insensately delusional with generational drift, the sum
Of sound is written round the valley walls
fields of shadows attain insidious velocity tin ricochet
LISTEN TO IT GOOD LISTEN EVEN IF YOU HAVE TO DIE FOR IT
Pays us all to wait for something to wait for the world to come and SAVE
WHO?
IS YOUR FAMILY THEY SAY ...PACK...TRIBE..HORDE...HIVE...FLOCK...SCHOOL..
GROUP...ORGANIZATION...et:al begs the meaning of definition bends the lightning curve
Of space and time and the worlds revolving motion beckons always still
DON'T YOU DARE TURN THE STATION THEY MAKE YOU SWEAR
LIKE A TATTOO TO BEAR AN IMPRINT EMBLAZONED WITH A FELL . INVERSE RIGHT .
AND DRAWING LIGHT INTO THE UTTER BLACK POOL THAT FORMS
INSIDE THE WORDS I WRITE SO FAR AND DEEP
INTO THE Book OF NIGHT...
Always waiting to be read bone burnt words encrypted scriptures.
BLACK CHURCH SERMONS BEARING STILL BORN HYMNS WAR WORN BURDENS
sinking sleepers underneath everything collected to invoke
sacred violets eyes intone even after I have gone
struggling through these stranded country streets wearing close my yoked bonds...
THEY HAVE TRANSMUTED THE SUBLIMINAL SYMBOLS INTO PRISONS BAD DREAMS OF NIGHT I SAY...
Compulsive womb sitter in convoluted wired whirls of digital amniotic pools of
Auto-hypnotic suggestion...OF EXIST...BUY..CONSUME...(and become consumed)
BY(buy) the process of the unwitting (re)(UN) written code which subverts text to
assume and consume all sentient being only taking the ever present now away again
promising instants of advertised pleasure for a COST ... WHAT? A COST.
It is quite costly what the camera sees no expense is spared to parse this picture name.
WHAT IS A HUMAN BEING IN THIS DIGITALLY BRAVE NEW WORLD?
New World, whatever in dear old heavens name happened just this moment wonders are just
beginning to seed the lowering clouds of propitious unceasing.
DIGITAL CAMERA BEINGS. . . CAMERA SEAS THE MEANS OF PRODUCTION
AND THEREUNTO PRODUCTION OF CONTROL OF CONSUMED CONSUMING BEINGS .
. . SEE? . . .Seas " " " SEIZE THE MEANS AND WHEYS COMM I T T E E . .
. CURDLINGS AND WAIST TO GHOST MS. TAKE SPORK MASH EN:THICKENING: . . .
IN't!
IT shall be possible to digitally erase and remove unnecessary portions
of population when the INVESTED ELITE ESTATE determines such existence extraneous to the greater social objective.
THIS OBJECTIVE BEING. . . being (?)
[ a word on GOD ] . . . ' En:garde GOD! HUZZAH SIR VAH HO JA !
DO DAH DAY and DINAH mustn't be late on time for duel condini mums Yuma
shore THE LUMINOUS LIMINAL ETERNAL WWWOOORRRDDD defined or else foray.
..for your daily bread a prayer is said to thee camera spy write a letter just in mind to
your puree congressional satellite memo. . .
m e s s a g e ore c o n text you all are subjective data being daily
Programmed for ERASE fingerprint tint mint lint to fear the mirroring
Face that seers veers and peers leering at the race mapped and trapped flapped and sapped
wound with wounds and falling through their pace. . .
THEY HAVE TRANSMUTED MEANING WOUNDING MURDERING THE LIGHT
TURNING EVERY HUMAN WORD INTO THE BOOK OF NIGHT . . .
[[[[it all comes back to me at oddest times
the natural voices of the trees...the silent spirit of childhood
an infinite promise of forever pouring like a flood of free souls
dreaming who was there so self absorbed into such innate blue...
knowing without knowing we knew, what was always known
how fine to be made as were the stars
to shine within ourselves with being freshly remade,
Oh there was someone there before the mirror of the skies
lovely as you were and always was
It all comes back to me at oddest times...]]]
AND JUST AS SUDDENLY IS GONE a g a I n
always in the process of being swallowed by LIFE'S
MONSTROUS LIE‚
always searching out the map and key to being one being ONE. . .
O. N. E
being. one.
W one O one R one D oneoneoneone wordwordword ONEONEONEONE .
I can no longer find myself or anyone else in this place
where words no longer speak meaning, not to me or anyone I know
not how to find the words to know what the thought is meant to say.
SAY IT ALL IN ONE VOICE...FREEDOM UNISON IT SHALL BE...
seize back the s. e. a. s. who sees rose wells in violet shells...
($)lieslies
heaped sediments of afore same sedimentary mentions dis (c); hon$helves (r bells?) to mention...
SOMEONE THE SUM OF ONE MANY FOLDED INTO THE EVER FOLDING WARP AND WOLD OF N...I...G..H...T...
says the seas pleas seize the S...U...N...
what is the sum of THUNDER(ing) CREATION, ?
who shall come to see the utterly completed equation?
SHALL ONE COME TO SEIZE THE SUM OF INFINITE NIGHT!!
Speak Oh Scribe of that city of lost souls, that place where everyone wanders into the same lost place
again and again and add it all up in digitalized displaced bi-fragmented greasy rainbow-sick pixel
frames of borrowed on living TIME...
borrowers:lenders:CAPITAL:CITIES OF THE SUM
who describes the world in such unholy denominators?
Something is always telling us all, ( just how deaf we have become ).
Something...one...SUM THAT
IS ALL(EVERYTHING)that is what is to hear through these deafening seas
seize, sees what goes so unheard?
That is all, but not everything. I will write to the eyes of this deafening city, describing lost thoughts,
abandoned minds and those whom art spirited away mere ghostly fragments
,
mute to the sound of LIGHT AS SHE WAILS BYE...for they are there are they not? Listening and interred with pitch black holes.
There is a mean-faced world of mute-word abandon screaming toward the black blanks out there, this EYE figured,
( a figure of speech.)
SLAVE TEMPLE FACTORIES
SPIRITUAL EXCISE TAXES
THEE BLOATED EYE:::::;
Go froth fromst yon GARDEN FENCEHORTH AND BUILDETH ME A NABERTACLE!!!
so the workers went and they came from tar slung corners of the world..
for is it not written, (somewhere surely it is).
"For though we dwell in the world, we are not of the world," (let us as hope to hope not.)
so the workers were there gathered together and apart each one alone in their several companies..
.each one and several...several groups of one went hunting and gathering in the fields of day bringing
the bounties of all the human inhuman world bound and tried with chains of deep dark spoilt earth
tied to each and every several ones like links to count their kettles work...work to make to rake and ruin and burn
with fire recanting LIGHT..
How long until you find yourselves writ into THE BOOK OF NIGHT
FOR THE HOLY HEAVENS SAKE
there are principles in play here;
Principles of SOUND(ing). Sacred,
SACREDSOUNDINGPRINCIPLES
In this HERE p. L. A. Y. 0f. principalities. OfTheAir
END t h e off .OF. OFF THE AIR(!)
Finally the air is still, and completely dead. How will we breathe
Where where OH GO (to) w re at h e a wreath for sumseas (sisisees$) expirations...air off the air...take the air...
FOR HOLY GODSAKE H O L D T H E A I R...
back-dated prono bo rated B R E A T H.
Seasonal markers;felt- tipped workers shift sum shelves for dim selves
moo sum dim dum goo(!)(?)($).' ( now just you wait ) [n] ines...
W:A:I:T...wait...this is news...this is the news...
The very idea of History is no more. OM to the ever presence of Information.
If anything changes now it is only so within the flow of ever present information.
There are the hundreds of millions there to be displayed,(displaced).
There on the reeling scroll of scrim, indexed and tabled de-sexed and labeled for an eventual extermination.
There,,,there...THERE on the powerfully overreaching, overwhelming infernal preach of film.
The infernal overreach and preach of film, well there is always ON. On in the way of process and means to an end.
A neverending end that is and is not always ON. An END that does and in so doing does not.
Marks have been made on the doors of houses, every house that is fixed and transfixed inside the all encompassing DIGITAL CAMERA EYE...
The names of buildings are being changed even as we weep, rewritten into
the DARK CODE of all too INHUMAN MAN, perhaps they have become the protean mortar of dreams.
Spirits rise from ghostly waters
They register as mists of violet
Cover the screen they are whispering
without breaths to be felt
their very presence is like
some haunted image in a mirror
lost to all, once long ago
Epirus guise sans distal violets
plates of flowers on coastal shelves
violet masses kneel before the rising waters
for they have come to claim their missing kin
binary cities rising, christening the always
NOWNOWNOW:::
WHATEVER WE DO NOW WE DO WITHIN THE DIGITAL NOW
INFORMATION TAKES THE PLACE OF MONEY TAKES PLACE
IMSIDE SUM INNER DISPLACED MASS::::(masses lose all sense of time and place)
ERGO:::MASS:::EGO:::(loss of TIME+*PLACE):::MASSIVE.
Seas are swelling in this BOOK OF NIGHT, temporary eternal waves will wash the
pieces of God's broken WILL&TESTAMENT away and then return reformed, refilled,
another deed to file...( claim it under dreams ).
The FILE shall be so made as to contain d i a m o n d s & g o l d...
things humans value more than the lives of their fellow man.
Not everyone who lives need to keep hold of houses and cars. Such things are only useful to charge massive interest on and to parcel out packages
Of same to the world wide investment markets.
OPEN and CLOSE every EYE inside the CLOCK-TOWER watching EYE of the always present now.
TIME has come to a complete stop.
HISTORY has become a myth, fodder for digital design.
NOWNOWNOW:::
BINARY CITIES RISING, christening the always {n o w}
NOW IS JUST THE WORD REWRITTEN NOW
DIGITAL PAGES APPEAR INSIDE
THE BOOK OF NIGHT.
(It has begun, it is always beginning to appear just as we disintegrate our souls fall into the voided not to be avoided intestate commerce of interstate holographic incommensurate estimate spheres of suspect influence, the confluence of affluence, of sick effluence THE VIRUS WORD, THE CADENZA CABINET CAPO where the cleansing FLUS, the flues the the foolish tools of State of lost soul fools tools bait the mewling masses rolling rippling tide, Implied, implicit, complicit solicit state of disrepair the relative fate of DESPAIR, the hair of prophet poets burning forever in seals set before the world began the embryonic demonic angelic tonic also ran dig it MAN ! there residing alongside abiding the war of late lives for gives damns and dies retries hiding INSIDE THE BOOK OF NIGHT)
It Shall begin anew, the blithering beheaded hydra beast
Screaming with vacant moonscape eyes
Hurling base epithets at the Sun
Salamandering rank slander cheap as onion thistle
As swiftly withered.
Who shall walk upright in these days to come
Chanting the Word that is and is not NOW
All that once began to fall apart, the threads
Waiting to be woven, reawakened into NEW
Deeds of daring THOUGHT too aware inside
The moiling dark, writing lines that rise to Light
Forms that break the locks which bind
THE BOOK OF NIGHT .
March 2020
Let us continue
Within Cycles:
Something ancient in the Hall face skin pulled too plastic tight
Like a curious riddle burning in The Book Of Night
Another figure lurks behind to hold the zombie puppet still
An angel's breath is all it takes to breathe in darkness crass and chill
Where lost moths flock unto the disingenuous fluttering muck
If lightning hit the world in the eye with colorless dye if thunderstruck
An ectoplasmic trick to shuck the shills a ghostly wail of whippoorwills
A tower of money bowing to idols of gold buys crowds of dreamers bought and sold
For an ancient zombie formed of crepe and spit stalks the halls where hails hit
So sacrosanct so dinosaur so in the tank that which was and is no more
Another figure lurks behind to pull his strings to draw the blinds
Whoever knows what is there to find the heartbeat slows the machine grinds
The flesh to flower the bones to meal unholy power inane surreal
Who covets this power, who made this deal?
Who shall heed the vast marble footfalls of such
A Shibboleth ? Clamorous diatribes ranting senile
Billboard slogans of mutilated innocence be damned by inverted promises
Tinsel town crosses a bloody gown worn by all the latest stock exchange reel crime grimy two timey bosses,
Who stole thee
Dressers father who is your mommie dearest confessors ?
Wearing holey sepulchers like bone dry death valley dark deals back alley
Priests of deserted masses spiel das glocken is real gone man daddio cat
Who is there to read the sideways worded scripted blank oblique opaque insight
Driven mad for lack of anything meaningful to consume
Forced into the same old new version of someone else's absurd costume
Sucked off into an overwhelming subverted banality by all appearances of Might
One be made completely unaware of what is there but Nothing only The Book Of Night;
Where is this US Now is not now,
Proposals March like syncopated mice in furrowing mazes of mirror crazes
Reflecting suspecting hectoring heroes receive harrowing infusions
OF That Which IS What Above ?
All of at Once bOth rising and fAlling down high unto the oNe that is none that is you too much to do to be at one both each and none undone into.
The closed seals opening eyes closing pry shut posing nothing but roses scorn growing down worlds words just posing as,
Enter into This World as what is there to see, another hidden door inside another set of Eyes.
Eyes of This Creature that shall go unnamed rising horribly awfully inverted accursed
beastly thing with 6 heads rising with unending lying tongues from a filth ridden sewer rains stormy drains melting into thE onE lost sEa,
Come swim here and see the UnHwolly See see see mE whim and dher and ahim
Some weal of Pow pow Power Full of wooly Mammon TH towering plynths
Synthee sizer wisenheimer climayte tizers.
Thee wHo controls the Disease of Poper elations poor poor elations rEigns in All tHings over clueless nAtions.
So go see who that cat what rises uP too dark 4 light 2 break in some palace coup oh whoo whoo whoo 6 wrong x right
Come bE in zoo to skin E might wearing pose dank utter rose to pear leaf who knows this page in pen script line waters under flows The Book Of Night .
Unders4as Overthrees sEe there iS a deepEr eVil lurking within as old as may be asleep or waking always working to be taking what is given gradually away.
This is a taken, this is a given, these are the faces, voices, tones of words written and spoken like tokens broken upon some infernal celestial 3rd i wheel, it is and is not that which is commonly understood to be real real real is really reeling and wheeling so periodically so episodically dealing the Apple Spore spawns rotten Cores of tHought wE ought to think of sOmEthing other than tHis eVil Man of Earthly spins our oRigins and over in a moment think Memory is but a forgotten space between the wOrdly wordy green was ever trembling threading reading and reading through thin and thick as volumes of sulphourous brickety brick omnipresently spreading onyx vestibules of Light some vacuum beast with six horrendouys =h=o=r=n=s=HeaDing whO goes to thumb their fingers numbly burning through The Book Of Night
Faux images burning pages glue into smoky emerald eyes seeing through ages and raging fools staging chicken coop coups stimulating concoctions of stupid soup sue you too will never learn that which is not available for common natural study buddy old pal with complexions lost connexxions so ruddy rat the household cats and dogs wearing mirror masks to snout their grog.
Someone trapped in a mirror in a dark chandelier closet gets a bright idea from God only even cannot guess where.
Suppose,
Go, go to Cut exist in Paste, Fold In The Fold Out Words aka Images So
Smash the control images
Smash the control machinery
Destroy All Moorlocks
Remember H.G. Wells
This is a Social Fictive Narration run amok drunk on Power/Money/Influence/Corrupt demigods legislating cultural myths.
Smashing Everything Complete Disintegration.
Cocontaminant Moloch rising from sixth sense Seas seizing purple breath dragon thoughts coming soon to a theater of thee absurd Word in maniacal manacles / psuedo suited mannequins flashing nouveau guillotine ties hairless wearing sloganeering domineering All The little people out there Hear hear, the Neo Cortoid is now in Session/Judge Not that you be not period/as though One never were even there/Anywhere Home?
Follow Suit
Something sad with thirteen eyes
Broken Sun and Moon crashing cascade skies
Tinsel atmosphere for sale cashing lock and key
Prison skin and bone drawn in line cashing time to die
Evil wears a suit and tie
Something happens below the heads
Dreamers dying for no reasons other than
Orb shrinking, cracking ovals, spheres in fade
Wonders backing who got paid
Meet Disconnect
The streets all meet and disconnect
Veiled by digital elliptic omnipresent eyes
Rustling crackle of dry sheets city ablaze with tombs
Pentagram mirrors drawing crowds to crucifix skyscraper idols
Skeletal emojis appear goo goo faces melt into gas lights
Stretch out hands for sacrament of bread liver eating crows
Flocking violently clogging screens blocking heavens ceiling unscene
Glorious opposites of Obscene citizens of a darkness never right
Inner face where we race and wreck
The streets all meet and disconnect
On a tiny block place on or the other on top or bottom
Middle of here or nowhere is there
When buzzards eat other buzzards
While hypnotizing pigeons that hang muted upon the deaf dumb air
Locked down in mirror cages bars made of buzz words
Fingerprinted by lab coat wearing one world technicians
Test tube tales old as sin with a rank musty smell of lies
Where spirits flock around an inverse pyramid of darkness faced
With some meaningless plot believe it or not who knows
It's like a galaxy of brightly burning solar systems circling a black hole drain
Does anyone have a prayer what is there any place to call home at last
The missing parts appear the stage is lit looking every bit as though the die were cast,
Who watches
Locked down in mirror cages made of buzz words
When buzzards eat other buzzards
In the movie times everyone is born with some kind of ticket to see the show
Encrypted figures grow into shadow forms
Assume clothes of popular religions those old hypnotic stones
Orgies of political pornography promise fatal gratifications for all
Tomorrows lies were today's promises that's the formula for successful death
Life begins with breath free with a little catch behind the curtain in the back
Awful bent and twisted features play on and on flames flicker in and out
Crimson frames melting with the names of those that hid their games of chance
Eyes are frozen facts information interacts and grabs power and control
In the movie times
Encrypted into shadow forms
On the other side of the glass
Where there is no one else to ask
What is what or who is who
This is not the thing to do
Where what has been shall come to pass
That is first the worst is last
No one is given a free pass
On the other side of the glass
Mirrors break into fragments of light
Like a monstrous chalkboard screaming night
Where huge crowds gather blank en masse
Such words were spoken and actions act
Surrealism lived like artifact
On the other side of the glass
Locked behind a hidden door unseen
Someone writes your name upon a screen
Where what has been shall come to pass
Where there is no one else to ask
On the other side of the glass
Chip
......chip
............chip
Away at the world one lives in
A chip at a time
Chipping away the time one is in . . .
Chips in the plane
Chips in the brains
Bars on the wrist
Codes in a twist . . .
.............chip
......chip
Chip.
Those at the top do as they will
Take and make what they wish from positions of power
Like a panderer preaches
Like some devious leaches
Caught up in nets too dark to see or know
Stomp all over the little fish below
Too low to really care about
Just commodities
Some human oddities
Masses radar into blip
Incline radius doppler slip
Chip
.......chip
.............chip
Flame tip frozen eyes
Ice lens covers all spaces in between
Thoughts spin inside the iris thins and thickens so
Camera clicks frame within frames stutter steps go
Nowhere fast and slow ways
Always on, say Oh
always on . . .
Appendages of The Beast transform throughout Time
Different bodies, faces, voices speaking of : : : : : :
Empty poison promises painting Darkness as Light,
Even on a virtual stage nothing changes place
Making believe playing dangerous games with Reality
Only hoping for nothing more than to plant
Traps of Deception for all to fall into
Again and again : : : : : :
What is the number there ? ? ? ? ? ?
What leaves a mark mark mark mark mark mark
?
Faces in Code
Bodies in Code
Voices in Code
Speaking speaking speaking speaking speaking speaking
Of
Appendages of The One Big Lie.
Who is behind who
No one knows who knows,
Time folds flat upon the face of self
Intrinsic q]quintessence invisible inversion
Resumes
In secret files
Cross reference etiolate
Light tendrils uproot ipso de facto obverse
Impenetrable, impervious Motion dissolves
Emptying an endless what
Do I know
Nothing. Plain
A wave of Will and breaking water
Take the World overcomes
Words written in a silent book
The page a shadow fading into fire
So far to See the Way is woven
Strands separate only bound by
Nothing Is yet complete
Making things still and ever after
A wave of will and breaking water
a shadow fading n2 fire
The cause is under investigation
The investigation is under investigation
The fire is on fire and fading into n2
Shadow falling over all and into fire
Holo
Buy a lie
The price is high
Like freedom of living
Or never forgiving
Believe what is before your eyes
Read into it something with meaning
But it's still only a bought and paid for script
Written by committee
Characters posed by poison pens
Swirling shadows flutter in the camera lens
Dark gravitational pulls the light inside out
Words are uttered like dying gasps for air
Who is there?
Terminal Pomposity
Some odd mad sign nailed to the floor
Eating through doors of perception
No one gets to raise objection
Objectivity is a sin
Media Cancer on the march again
Moving mouths with words to say
They know so much about so little
Just how they're paid is not a riddle
The bosses must approve the script
And all the lines over which are tripped
Any opponent to the party line must be ripped to shreds
Listen away as the real news goes over our heads
Everyone seems to have the answer
Reading from teleprompters feeding Media Cancer
This side good, that side bad
No in between to spread the blame
Just identity and poison fame
Nothing real just chaos and sound
What goes around must come around
With no real question no real answer
Just empty words
Media Cancer
Once I saw the mad dream within a rectilinear screen
Tragic sad scenes of sick power and control run amok
Confused masses of captive populace in absolute shock left at a loss
For just what to do about anything of real import
Just wailing inside the perimeters of what barriers allowed to be
I saw just what the blind may never see
It was the bottomless pit of one big lie that hides in between
Endless lines were circling back upon themselves front to back
Destroying each other for no good reason, petty, small and mean
Once I saw the mad dream within, a rectilinear screen
Media Cancer
Just empty words
No real question.
No ?
It's debatable.
What is ?
Anything
You say will be
Held up to an inverse tarnished silver mirror club of absurdium
Oh that is absurd
Surely you debate in jest kind knight of Templar plated falsehoods
Yes Sirrah
Something on Earth is taking over tonight
Taking away what is free, what is right
Stealing your thoughts and dreams like a blight
Taking away all you see with the light
Something unholy, arcane and abysmal
Speaking of wholly profane and so dismal
Mirrors are melting away into cracks
Something following today on your tracks
Taking away all you see with the light
Stealing your thoughts and dreams like a blight
Taking away what is free, what is right
Something on Earth is taking over tonight
Now a little something from our worthy sponsors, locked up in this case
You missed it.
Waxen faced corrupt demigods
The skin pulled tight across
Tight as glass across
The lying face
The double face
An inverse place of schemata
Big wads of word are flouted
Big ideas heard and touted
Electronic data is the real god behind the false faced ads
The fresh cake new editions the old school fake politicians
Intend to sell corn to the deaf, dumb masses
The absolutely blind classes always in session
Hollywood gimbals merrily about fractured camera lenses
Shabbily manufactured fads sold out under false pretenses
An inverse place of schemata
The double face
The lying face
Tight as glass across
Waxen faced corrupt demagogues
Sinking into a losing sea where no one is fated to win
Why is the world this way
The world is the world is the world
Seems destined to always spin
Weaving circles within circles weaving riches and sin
Poor souls fall to savage fools that feed upon fear
Time makes puzzles of pieces of lost lives
Who makes the rules, who says so
About what and who survives
So much is said
Causing pain such lies
Thrive like weeds in a dark, crazed garden
Where no one walks together, hearts harden
Where an ancient, monstrous worm slithers 'round the brains
Where images of Eden circles into forever night and something drains
To be never seen again
Sinking into a losing sea where no one is fated to win
When all lines are official
Told what to think, what to ask
Injections become Holy Sacrament
Federal Power the New Testament
Everyone wears a mask,
Why is this, you have to ask?
When Now is not now
And Then Never Was
Where is This ?
Where is this
And then never was
When now is not now
Why is this, you have to ask.
Everyone wears a mask,
Federal Power the New Testament
Injections become Holy Sacrament
Told what to think, what to ask
When all lines are official
Behold the glory that was Rome
Possessed effigies embalmed with wealth and power pose
Choking millions in golden robes, crumbling hopes to ruin
Broken all the old roads, weathered fast and overgrown
Winter coliseums play to empty mobs in cold wind against gray skies
Behold the glory all consuming, the keys that lock all roads and doors
Decapitated behind digital barricades, absorbed by mockery of an eternal truth
Question asleep in arboreal winter,
How bad is good, how good is evil ?
No more belief in History
No more faith, only imagery to worship
Shell and self assumption consume like rampant flames the world is and
Changes frame, burns in purple pages, rage and policy
Blithering geriatric inanities Corpse Headed Marionette approaches the podium
Drooling corruption from a cess pit soul
Staring into dead air with blank teleprompter eyes,
Flickering a sick lizard tongue just behind dark curtained wings
Some lethal shadow form waits for his death
Climaxing with the promise of power and ascension to a crumbling throne
Of mythic fear and awesome propaganda smear
Corpse Head moves mouth, stretches withered lips tight across
National Screen
Something Obscene
Controls the controls
So low and mean
Ing gets lost in the words that drip like lime or alkaline veins
Or a forest of insects and poisonous spiders weaving preposterous skeins
To choke out Light and Breath,
Behold The Corpse Headed Marionette
Lock step dysfunctional dystopia
Mock it ad hoc it is more or less what to suspect
A back door a back road
The army of hacks who wrote The Bar Code
On the backs of our neck ?
Maybe it's The Nameless One
Could be the number
2x3
2x3
2x3
Will the sequel be coequal
Will the prequel vanish phist
Into air that is not there
Into some digitally entranced silver mist
Rabble bone and heathen moan and rage
Raising rotten Kings amidst a scripted virus
Great god Osiris to thee we pray
Give us what you want to give
Pyramids of criminal schemes
Propaganda nepotism dreams for one
And all we get is a little bit of It
Mock it ad hoc it is
More or less suspect
Lock step dysfunctional dystopia
In the province of powers and portents
Winged craven creatures of the air
For all purposes outside and intents
Even if no one else is there
Watching mirror eyes kiss camera souls
Calypso cut to paper faces digital facsimiles of light
Where to put the proper places as we fall completely into Night
There everyone is locked into roles
Even if no one else is there
For all purposes outside and intents
Winged craven creatures of the air
In the province of powers and portents
When it's all over but the crying, laugh
Worlds spinning in a cosmic puzzle, pieces mismatch
Catch the latest show help the network grow to monstrous proportions
Warp dimensional distortions glow so large, so small
Stand up on principle, close your eyes, see it all
Be prepared to rise and fall,
Down the rabbit hole the days are dancing go away to stay to say
So long Hollywood see you soon get out somewhere the Sun and Moon
Shall be waiting always as before you see now you don't
Me am not I anymore who won't know just what to say
Just turn and write inside the the Light
Time to go alone, Outside the Night
The Camera Eye Is Always On and on and on . . .
Always on and burning my eyes reading the pages written in
The Book Of Night
It never ends
Hearken in chants of Darkness saying thus these things:
L.amp Shade stands on the stage
Waxen faced effigy
Reading of tragedy
Forgets to turn a page
Eyes of glassy age
Words of practiced decades mouthing the pit
Something suspiciously dark comes from it
An all inclusive separation from the pyramid tip
An eye on high to raise the toll to lay you low
That such a dim bulb should shine the lie to swallow
As tubers fester inchoate pagan rituals and rites display
The digital hubbub shaves the time with more to follow
Locking all in a cage
Lamp Shade stands on the stage
Saying the scripted words behind the scenes of Death and Money
The unsaid word the sleight inferred . . .
Who died and left you God ?
Your lies just make me nod
I don't like the crap you sell
On the China carousel
The Authority some people wield
Weapons used to scare to make me yield
My personal preferences to a fictional greater good
In point of fact references deliberately misunderstood
The way you make me sick to make me well
Unholy fake, I hate the crap you sell
In a vast hypnotic trance
We are calling you to dance
Do not mind those figures secluded
Just follow suit to what's alluded
Worship service in Chaos Church
Where the hideous zombies lurch
Perhaps they feast on souls for lunch
Maybe steal from us, have a hunch
Never peer inside the mirror dim
The blinding truth is too hard to see
Behold the Night breaking as we skim
From page to page falling endlessly
Devils dancing in blank darkness
Chanting, brewing fields of rye and rue
Smiling baldly at sheer madness
Panting backwards codes of dye and blue
Clouds forming overhead, demons fall like rain
Waking up living dead, kill us all again
Devils dancing in blank darkness
Smiling baldly at sheer madness
Just a wink at crime time to ignore
Nothing much to matter anymore
Bruised and broken moments killing Light
Letters written in The Book Of Night
Clothed in a cancerous confusion of naked power
Heaven holds a mirror Up
Do you not see ?
Kingdoms grow
Glow and crumble
Numbers tumble
Down they spiral
Something viral
Attacks a massive screen of Light
Children murdering in the Night
Far below,
Watch the ancient puppets play out roles as old as dust again
Wait inside yourself with someone else, pray if you must for rain,
Do you not see ?
Heaven holds a mirror Up
Clothed in a cancerous confusion of naked power
There is
No memory of Before
No awareness of Now
Only an incessant Sound droning on and on
A loud deaf tone crashing noise
Dimensions folding out and in again
Puckered figures cut from fabrics of shadow
Push themselves forward in dingy swathes of Light
Then elapse and fade back into the Nothingness
From which they came,
No Memory of before
There is
No awareness of Now
Generated in pixels driven by electricity and avarice
Avatar politicians preach the inverse reach into
Pockets of mockery in the violence of despair
Deafening silence dances with death angels
Cacaphonous choirs drowning in inarticulate desires
The implicit fit of force hits in the face of common sense
Drowned in place of porous dense decline
Underway and undermine the vast ongoing play
Give it all back while taking everything away okay
Swallow again the daily dose of far and close underlined very nice
Generated in pixels driven by electricity and avarice
Waiting for all the old monsters to die
It always takes too long
New ones have hatched to take the place
Of what was always nothing more
Than mortal frailty at best and worst
NOW nothing more than Digital Din drones on and on
Damping out any hope of natural air
Like vast hives of insect life linked by the honey
Of info dope
Casting off into what is forever unknown
Daily digging out our eyes with the fingers of past ghosts
Screams in heart and soul dying
It always takes too long
Waiting for all the old monsters to die
{meanwhilst,and eye do sea mean}
The ancient Hag Queen of Gomorrah sits upon Pentagram Hill
Her face a ridgid plastic mask of Corruption Lies Filthy deeds
Commissioned by her Hagness, carried out by jelly fish minions in Darkness,
Nearing the end of worldly power she utters curse prayers for more time
More days, weeks, months and years to weild the Sceptre of Deception
To suck the life blood from all whom labor in earnest and with good will
Her shrivel lemon soul shrieks in wrath at any hint of truth or honor
One task she sets, one conquering rune devised in back rooms
In the electronic cities of numbers in the chemical factories of Control
One accursed task before the Holy Sun should burn her wretched corpse
To hell ridden cinders, dust unto dust,
The Orange Troll King must be brought to kneel
Before her throne on Pentagram Hill {::}An antique clown wears the crown in the House of the Dead
Circus cronies circle the drain in cars tiny and far away
Concerned crowds cluster around screens hypnotic blue and cold
Words are tattooed into thought with icicle pens
A great poet once wrote,
1."Science and Patience, Retribution is sure."
Now is the time of thunderous silence and poisoned light
Ghost rooms full of screaming staircases that lead to nothing
Uncounted hosts welcoming guests to the House of the Dead
Where inverted pyramids suck the lifeblood from lifeforms lost
Figures vaguely whirling in states of vacuum trance
Find a faceless mirror in this place of endless error
Something dark appears unknown reasons remain unsaid
An antique clown wears the crown in the House of the DeadRust from a broken kingdom penetrates the subjects pores
An ancient cage disintegrates between the bars eyes peering
Fingerless hands, armless hands reaching behind to scratch the sores
Trust in a spoken language unseen words beyond hearing
Limned against a raging skyline, burning panoramas
Skimmed like helpless fish intertwine lost amidst such dramas
Speech flounders on polluted shores, choked in plastic and sand
Sleep lies in wait, dying on the vine, to fail to understand
Oligarchal genocide
All there is to live, sleep, eat, breathe
Die inside some summer doorway fast
As thought and twice as alone,
Oligarchy no malarkey
Coincidental rhyme
Like another stitch in time
Only saves a certain nine
X nine
In the open cannot hide
From
.......... ........
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 1365 times
Written on 2013-04-18 at 01:12
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
|
Commentally Ill |
| Texts |
 by Chaucer Whethers Latest textsAlmost DiamondsHer Suit Interchange Simulatlng Snowflowers My favoritesRumblingYou Long Legged Lady Masterpiece |
Increase font
Decrease