Tuche & Automaton

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

As If From a Distant Star

Gnawing serenely on the wheel of life
Leaves arching morosely over our exposed heads,
wheezing gently
Navigating carefully on terrain dotted with
bloodied, gaping maws
Threatening to spill the arcane secrets of
untold millennia spent loafing under
screaming skies

Divine procreation, unreadable,
untranslatable, and gasping at
light from the stars

Effulgent wetness creeping up on the copper gates to the arena. The overwhelming stench of evaporated alcohol left abandoned in cups for the miasma to sniff at. Sheer wonder. Child-like amazement.
Emeralds howling with pent-up rage in the rafters,
terror-stricken at the sudden onrush of white on white,
myriad sheets of empty oblivion waging their war
on the churning sleep of rusting spires

Smoke blanketing all transmissions. A few scragglers huddle into each other, hiding their eyes in awe at what they sense will come. Some attempt to communicate their surrender by loudly proclaiming undying loyalty to the unfurled clouds of id. Others wait timidly, bibles in back-pockets
appearing now as so much straw

Revelations begin to rush in from the outside, melting the surface of the playing-field into aquatic blue liquid. Some people start frothing at the mouth, bleeding from ears that no longer hear. Others speak in strange tongues before diving in, never to reemerge.

A dark grey plucked bones from our madness,
ageing us decades in the process


Perfidious spirits concealed in the distant thunder. Our hallucinations running desolate alleyways with emaciated rodents and optical larvae. The frenzy to learn new dances to win desire again. Commerce and labour croak their mutual forgiveness at each other amidst the looting. Money hides in fear behind black fishnets left to spy alone on wounded flesh wandering between rows of cold machinery. To traverse piles of rotting teeth laying in wait for unwary beasts to pass.

Brief flickerings return once more. Levees bray their gratitude
at every recording surface imaginable

Peace perfumes our sweating, chases the marauding hordes of blue away at last. Flesh re-carved passion on the swollen purple flanks running frozen through the empty aisles of the urine-god then

Just as we all realize there is a stillness in each of us
that is eternal and cannot die

6 Comments:

At 1:20 AM, Blogger Cocaine Jesus said...

maybe it is time for all of us to seek out that inner stillness and creat something a little better than what is currently on offer

 
At 1:21 AM, Blogger Cocaine Jesus said...

create even

 
At 1:22 AM, Blogger Cocaine Jesus said...

PS. smashing words

 
At 11:30 AM, Blogger Radio Nihilist said...

ty CJ...ive recently become a fan of your work, too...linked to your blog on one of my own...was thinking just yesterday about how you had the baddest-ass moniker on the web, too :)

 
At 11:30 AM, Anonymous loveandrage said...

RN is me, LoveEcstasyCrime/Peyoetryhut Robertguy :)

 
At 11:31 AM, Blogger Radio Nihilist said...

ty CJ...ive recently become a fan of your work, too...linked to your blog on one of my own...was thinking just yesterday about how you had the baddest-ass moniker on the web, too :)

 

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