Palimpsestuous - Works In Progress a la Metamorphosis

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I'm not a poet, a fool rather, a boy crying wolf and the muses sing imploding tunes. Echoes hurling insurrection! Squadrons of warring angels through and through involuting mirrors and citadels of consciousness, pranic breath of souler architecture laughing off the epochs. The errant tuning celestial profusion of galactic instruments at the cosmic carnival, now, pause for silence... Ah, at last, musicians, the conductor is in, ok, now, we can shake that drunken haze history tried to capture and frame through authoritative refrains accepted by the bored of acceptance, schooling chains, 1984 and the echoes of World Wars, what vapour, Baby Boomer at the helm! World War Two traumatic cell, industrial tree slaughter! 'Woah these earthlings sure know how to fuck up their planet' cried the village ferret, God replies: "as hath been said, albeit, in frozen text", as so rendered by the English translator reprinting the 'New Testament for Idiots, 134th edition'*... * Copyright 2109, Desolaters of Eden Press in association with Babylon Dreaming Armageddon INC. Where is he, I don't know, I met him in a dream. But at least it's in Greek said he, I'm not too good with my Hebrew. And the latter day notation of the select words of Jesus have already had, yet another mutation, re-write the church not the Bible said ma attorney. I meant English I can't read Greek, its just codes anyhow, codes trying to communicate the evervarying suffusion of astral resplendance, that which is, however, caught on the pinions particular to the phonohistorico, spectroassociative, sensory occupying, emotio-gravitational psycho-linguistic system that in accordance with time incorporated spits blueprints of psychic meteorite dust, birthing cybernetic nanobots of programmed consciousness to fish the humans, anchor them in, edit the spell book, Orwell. Poetry in so that it connects hitherto unconnected regions in the brain, is that which often keeps the impulse alive in what could very well be dead-pan automated language. Media regurgitations at workplace chatter. Anyhow! Folks from Mississippi been saying they saw Jesus, back again Christmas day, surrounded his birthday like a Golden Calf fattened with presents, a different kind of presence, wrecking the merch of a department store saying stuff like 'profane thouest, his name? Thine tickets, thine shopping dockets, egad, in my name, what happened to Babylon, the eye of the needle, the weak, the needy and the lame, what is thy compassion of pokie machines and a retirement village?' The news says it's a hoax. 'Just another one of those'*, said the nurse, under her breath for all national television to hear, with eyes as well, the projections of the shell, hear the sea of consciousness, no need, no siree, I'll hire it from the library in the eternal nutshell... I mean it's all on DVD... All popular culture is archived, in five years they've amassed a hundred years of alternate reality, and they call it the mainstream, good fodder for an eternity in heaven, gosh, I hope the cultural conditioning out there is exciting. I once overheard a sociology church going student. Like in an institution not being to tell, whether or not I was dreaming, oh but that I don't remember, makes it ok doesn't it? Something bad happened, but I lost my memory, of it, so seemeth... Echoes Charlotte Sometimes... A man or a butterfly? Or: whatever we herd the infinite within… A prisoner of the mental system, no crime, but the ecstatic! Now a prisoner of democracy, cry amnesty at the foothills of Hospitalized Plutocracy, the neuroeugenic dystopian fantasy, involuntary as a heartbeat! "People seem so close, playing expressionless games, people seem so close so many other names, sometimes I'm dreaming... Where all the other people dance, sometimes I'm dreaming, Charlotte Sometimes." The Cure "Has the Moon lost her memory, she is smiling alone..." CATS *'Jesus Delusional syndrome'... number one in the top fifty hits of 'schizoanalysis'... Mary the 12th apostle and as such it crumbled off the coastline of Australia, DaVinci code magnetic psychosis... Blood lines to the seed, the cosmic Atom and Eve. Drone... The depths of sublimated work-oriented collective unconsciousness, echoes rippling innocuous as road rage, drug addiction, drug traffic-Kings, news-opium, suicide, war, cancer, depression, industrial wastage, floods, terminator seeds, food patents, hurricanes, tsunami's, plagues, breakdowns in nervous weather spaces… Atlas neath the weight of conscience under the prow of sinking ship History and time comes up again and again scratching its head for the permanent inquiry, lost in its undertaking. Time passing... Innocuous it is! War changes everything, from red-fisted nuclear fuck the ecology warheads come metaphysical projection benevolent psy- spiritual warfare, phantoms behest the confused barbarians and the violence is sublimated through the luminous experience; more subtle ways to ameliorate the consciousness, we work the quantum resonance, where love holds its sway, the whole universe in play, time threaded weaves of a magnificent day. Oh, yes, what day is it today? Continuum. It is Always… Quick turn within... Decode... Oh, the language soul combustion system! Freeze to catalogue Isomorphic All (inc) Melt to a river thy mirror Narcissus Swim the liquid haze… in the ever-tuning aperture of symphonius space I's is I'sis... "Where happy little bluebirds fly..." Dorothy Garlanded in the Wizard of Oz Mosis...
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