Monday, September 28, 2009

Wow! I mean, Wow!

Composite of a conductor. Sitting in dark red on a throne of ivory white. The ceremony has begun.
Bring us your flowers, ferns, and fetid virgins. Bring us the oil, the book, and the blood. Bring us everything we need for a picnic in that other place.
Ah, the other place. Isn't that what we've always dreamed of? Christ and demons and Buddha and lemmings. That other place we are always speaking of.
It's high and wide. It's weird and wild. It's what from what wonders come love.
Once you're there, there's no faith to bare. There's no spells and demons, and no lack of pixallated entities that dream of us. There's no more reading, no more guessing; this is it.
High cucumber model of a man. Shaft broken no more for women and lore. No more proving, no more posing, and no more worry about what you is and what you were.
Here in the other side there's no coming back. No wrong or right. No white or black.
If you can't see, then you won't find your way. It's that way from the start and it's that way you'll stay.
Cloud bringer, skinwalking, and made to bleed. A dark something approaches.
Sudden fall of blood on the desolate valley. Your knees all gnarled up in desperate trade. Your fear is what they wanted and you've just been made.
Ocular gouging and a good kidney up the spine. You're learning your lessons, and lessons take time. Which over here there's none of which. You're lucky to choke on your spine and pitch.
Hell is a rumour and heaven a lie. You sink softly on both pillows and sigh.
One is the other and the other is this: heaven and hell never were, they were only preparing you for becoming, becoming of this carress.
Wayward and wanton you stifle a groan. From what mad corridor of the brain you were not to know.
The body is stripped and with you, down with it. There's bigger fountains than the nervous system.
There's a clear jelly that's not matter or liquid. From ecoplasm and rotting decay, you're finally alive now and on your way.
For a spirit can never really be lost
But will become open
You're on the other side now
And heaven and hell and in between
Are but faint memories of flesh
And flesh is obscene.

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