Whereforto Ye Wanderers

Whereforto Ye Wanderers.



Monday, March 22, 2010

STRIKE.

"in any case you will lose whatever you get, so don't grasp at all, and yet do not reject either. ultimately do not turn around---'just this is It'."

"the gods don't care about him, they don't care about us".

on the end of the ragged world
no one will save you
but there is no worry,
no dejected city to pick up yr squallid desires,
to put you down
nor raise you up,
to ween you
or fuck you over
to give you signs
nor rejections,
to signal sand signals
or ride the waves like rails,
the great oblivion slides as such,
into this nether,
whoa,
watch it,
all,
crumble
down
upon
the
decayed
teeth
of babel.
we were all speaking
insane langauges so wild
i thought my other mind
had invented them
at the ragged end of the world
on the day
before the sun
fell into the sky
sucked thru the thing like a drain,
this was all transmitted thru my dreams which i watched the way most people watch infomercials,
with deathfixed intent
thru the bare lips of death
thru the skull dug radiance of
transmission gone.
just gone,
and no word jazz rhythm could save
truth
bathed in flesh,
it said this,
all this
from a palm reading
where the lines made continents
transluscent and longing for a desire
never quite actualized because it is desire,
so we burned like fire
like flint on flint
matches to that rough diamond studded gray stuff at the bottom of the matchbook,
never working for nothin'
but our own interpretations
of what it all meant.

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