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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...

Tuesday, March 15, 2016

six six six...i got nothing

six six six  
i got nothing _and thinking
there was commotion from the street
murmurings muttered chanting in the air
i raced the window sill triumphant 
at the persiennes i lurched the void 
from the waist intent on truth or dare

it was hell´s bells 
a fantastic venture it was
a procession of tropical proportions
the cathedral bells began ring a ding dong
i saw mother ambling there
under black veils her red hair
and larger than life a statue on a cart
stage blood for the christ in distress
el señor de la patada _the given name
suffers the earthly divine has no concern
yes those were the days my friend
i´d crown myself with thorns regularly
and i always prevailed

it was a long long long time ago
when fear was affixed at the wheel
hope was left out in the cold 
was it not father who told us so
he said this is the score fear not 
but fear was at the core
we receded into ideas false
and false ideals were conceived
they were utter nonsense
we did not know the score
we knew fear
it was our source
we had to make some kind of sense
of the unknown _so we made it up

we are all one
keep on gonging
find scores in old records stores
we all have been kangaroo kourted
anything severed from the body
may be saved cryogenically
talking about cocks hands heads?
we shall need an agent that we
may wield otherwordly powers 
still thinking trash 
we beg off release 
this is how i play 
anger over sarcasm rudeness brutality
sound the shofar eat a round challah
in-a-minute is never now
try and juggle all the balls
play on our finiteness
oh such radical a condition…

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