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this fiction of mine laboured tightly in the skull of memories and mysteries worked to the wheel by furies who deal the willing thread in...

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

nauta nautae


in the beginning there was nothing going down
at all tell the truth now brother louie
you sold the furnishings effects fixtures
you sold the pews –what goes-
exactly how is it you lost the score -now
back at the slaughterhouse the pigs await you 
it’s another job not as lucrative you may say
but in spirit quite the same
and the stench in your hands

of course i also had a revelation but 
i wouldn't lust aplenty in its pursuit knowing 
beforehand it was just my imagination 
running away from me -i had to abandon 
any boffo dream or i would’ve lost myself along 
with those cretins chasing me and to whom i say 
boo bab boo bab boo bab baby it's alright ooh 
and it's okey  -trust me
you may yet spin towards the fuckin light

the orb winding nonstop blinds the seer
quazars blow his mind and the raving atom
with its charge concealed frightens the wits out
of his silly mind he can only conceive an universe malign apocalypse at hand he cries and busies on 
his private dream knowing not whence it come 
from -what recipe or spice it is all the same 
whatever his hot crave it's always lucifer

brother louie speaks in earnest all innocence 
up front but again bitterly gross with guilt 
any notion riddled with nonsense is welcomed
good and proper while his rudder’s fixed on babble
faith to guide the sinner to the promised land 
treading so as not to mortify the dead -death
precisely the final destination after our spell
every prophet's lie from immemorial days

(here's the end in song for you bro’ read with me
 ‘the killer awoke before dawn he put his boots on
 and he walked on down the hall…’ go on read) 
                                                                                               

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