Relics of futures that never happened because something died
Or nobody cared fidget like a rainy recess with nervous ticking
And sprays of Afrodesia arranged about the dais completing
The pentangle. Tamburlane struts and fumes while Dorian Grey
Has fallen asleep under Baudelaire's pumpkin and the baccantes
Conspire to give him a hotfoot. The approaching aegis of the
Vizier signals the pageant to begin, but it's still too late.
Twice today have they stepped on another's sacrifice scattering
The entrails into corporate fancy with parsley on the side.
Goblin gloom summons hasty reparations to the summerhouse
While Casper awaits the flagman with a cleaver. Carborundum
Cradle in swooning foxfires brings the cool light we see when
Sitting on the otherinside of a nova watching the darkness
Voiding out. Will evolution be reversed? When will we all
Run back to the big bang or just pass each other near the center? Is it the new gravity or have we lost momentum?
Is the antiworld quickening in our carelessness?
Do all the pollution notices really matter when she unmade
Her mind to do some righteous pain? This is a bust!
Welcome to the big mistake; we knew you'd make it soon/
So what's everyone sitting around all wild-eyed and bushy-tailed
About? Don't you know that there's a war going on, and a great
Multitude of cavities still lie virgin in the mist? I'm short.
And very sorry aren't you two now that we have to start over
Again, but then that is also my name in times of the goat.
Pass the fantasma gore and salt the rest of my accomplishments,
So that when John Sinclair rides a culture vulture the ringing
Will coincite the twirling chain to chant a lie for freedom.
Hollow ringings and still hollower thumps cry fever and dye
Themselves to protest the passing of a plum in the jungle.
Frank Lloyd Wrong built this sage, and we still have the receipt
Sew the morning cannot complain about voodoo. Who do?
A few lines make us feel secure that we are bound, but a comic
Notion becomes free that splices fact with contrarity in the
Blender bender's eyestorms. Shake me awake when she comes.
Short lines. Shorter lives, and even sadder thrusts chuckle
At themselves, and I ask you why we cannot, but then you gave
Us up on the third lap and that was in the spring, so how do
You expect for it to have dried by now? Nothing smells so
Much like you but just accept awhile, and it will all be numb.
Stupid rabbit, didn't you suspect that this wasn't really the
Front, but just something for you to fool the heat? We don't
Make drafts for fun, but for the glad flag's glory and glow.
It's all been undone before, but you didn't know, so it seems
Fresh again while it's really used. And dipped at that.
Déjà vu? Something used. Something dipped. Someone tripped
And fell on his ass to show us all how much we are fools.
How about a free ride?