I.
I have measured the width and breadth of Limbo
I have fallen
I have landed bottom dead center
Some days I wish I had never left the land of Mitzraim
Sometimes I wish I had died from the trauma of the fall
But upon deeper reflection
All I would have changed
Was my initial trajectory
From the head to the heart
II.
Those of you out there with no sense of tragedy
Ask indignantly,"Why does the condemned man sigh?"
This you ask because you have no fear of G_d on High-
You! who would spit in a dead man's face
You! who have made a covenant with Death...
But there is a Grave deeper than theirs'
Beneath your beloved lake of fire
There your understanding will be perfected
You who invoke the names of Life and Virtue
But have no sense of Tragedy
III.
"SAINT STATICUS, PATRON OF LATE NITE TALK RADIO-
PRAY FOR US SINNERS!"
"SAINT STSTICUS, PATRON OF THE DEAD LETTER OFFICE-
PRAY FOR US SINNERS!"
"SAINT STATICUS, PATRON OF THE FADED PHOTOGRAPH-
PRAY FOR US SINNERS!"
"SAIN STATICUS, PATRON OF THE LIVING CLICHE-
PRAY FOR US SINNERS!!!"
This whole thing is ready to go off,
Shut down, boil over
B! R! E! A! K!
Not even Limbo lasts forever
And even the Grave gets buried
Hear the Song of all Slaves of all Ages;
The Annihilation Hymn of all earths Exiles
And all bodies buried alive!
NONPLUS
Not even white noise on the radio
INDIVISIBLE
Not relative to anything at all
All your hope for becoming redundant is doomed
And not even G_d works on this Sabbath
IV.
[I am a man of flesh in the Land of Skeletons
I am a flightless bird in the Nation of Cages]
The New Ziggurat rises from the tel of the Old
MYSTERY BABYLON:
I know the nature of the names etched in the Beast's scarlet flesh
And I know with what you mix your wine
But what vexes me to madness
Is how your Merchants managed to turn mens' souls into a cargo
What vile magic, What corrupting calculus is this!?
O, Pax Romana,
[Americana]
My name is Elihu
Of the Sicarii of Alexandria;
A petty assassin in my youth-
I cast my lot in with the Exiles,
And all Defenders of Fallow Ground...
V.
It's a wicked generation that demands a sign
[the corpses clog the well, the water turns to wine]
Purified - the brimming Cup of Wrath
Forever broken the Harlot's mighty Cask
VI.
The old dichotomies have worn theselves to stasis
Frustrated by their own weight
And the encumbrance of Flesh
Hope floats,
Like a body by the bank
Held by an eddy-
This is the Great Synthesis
Hope floats-
And the Prophets pray for Drought
The Rising Tide Raises all Ships-
And the Prophets pray the Sky to stillness
Leviathan writhes beneath the Firmament-
And the Prophets pray from within the Great Fish.
Praise be to the One
Behind
Beneath
And In between
Everything
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Idiot Ballet
Dial adjusted to high shadow frequency:
Words in cipher
Reveal a world without colour
Faceless Rule amputates
With hermetic, surgical, pristine teeth
Past skin and ligaments and marrow;
Past atoms and light and forms
Through the soul's appendages
Mouth babbles and blasphemes G_d on High
From a Darkness churned by writhing Angels
Clumsy block-tongue obstructs oxygen from the mind
Issues serialized directives,
Orders G_d's image, Man's Tide
In a mighty Idiot Ballet-
Much too long to sit through
G_d is not mocked
Cowards stampede, panic and falter
In the twilight of Lawless Order
All the way into the nighttime-
Of Little Horn
Words in cipher
Reveal a world without colour
Faceless Rule amputates
With hermetic, surgical, pristine teeth
Past skin and ligaments and marrow;
Past atoms and light and forms
Through the soul's appendages
Mouth babbles and blasphemes G_d on High
From a Darkness churned by writhing Angels
Clumsy block-tongue obstructs oxygen from the mind
Issues serialized directives,
Orders G_d's image, Man's Tide
In a mighty Idiot Ballet-
Much too long to sit through
G_d is not mocked
Cowards stampede, panic and falter
In the twilight of Lawless Order
All the way into the nighttime-
Of Little Horn
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