Wildish poetry from the corridors of my labyrinth (mature symbolism and concepts, propably lamish)
These are written in the first whole night of ad 2012, you cant unread these but memories can sink back to sea of shadows were I have my nets, mythopoetry in motion
The Irony of It all-O
Me being Prospero proudly freeing my daughter from her sleep
Me being foolish spirit in love with her, looking through pages
I've just spelled with words of flesh and blood
Me being stormbringer when my quillsword drops the ink of all tears
Me watching my dead sisterLove as a queen of one underworld
Slain by meMy hand
hand guided by meFool being a toy of my Desire
Me hating myDesire when he/she lived in my shadow(lands)
Me looking at my Desire through blind eyes of an old man who has killed his very own father
MeJason docking to the shore through albionish mist of Tempest evoked by MeProspero'
MeJason watching my demented loveMedeia in awe and wanting,
MeProspero, MyDaugtherMe, MeJason and MedeiaMe meeting by the pool
usAll four bathing in pool of immortality while meProspero breaking my wand of power
MeFour turning into MeTwo
Dreaming an egg that is third
staring at beoynd the backs dogmatically chained angels and melting into what lies abowe meThem - usThird
Me becoming one, for a eternal minute, quakes and ripples moving throung time, space and planes, sea of everything over the horizon I'm bound(aried)
meOne melting in my shadow: the noOne, the noThing, the notYet,
the neverTobe, the nonMay, the notWithinUniverse, the Egg;
neither sacral nor profane, neither mundane nor extraordinary, Ii get see it and love cant describe it's baety
- Gracious or blessed with AllMeOnes graces
MeOne turning into dual number, moment of ultimate separation, birth of abyss (glimbse of a dark tower), pride and briding, meAir gently but undeniably lifting meSky above meEarth (glimbse of Rhea), birth of byrds that track the milky way to separate meMortal from meDivine guarded by stuborn ox of family honour that guards their branches of blood crack crack crack
* * * * * *
Telling the tale of time in bits and pieces
iteration of separation ~ MeTwo again, again and again
MeOne and NoOneNotYet; God and Lucifer; Me and myShadow; MeBrother and MeSister; Sofia hiding usChild that was verdicted as hers alone, meInHerBody while archons rape her, laterMe weeping for not dreaming her pain in that dream, laterThanLaterMe remembering the pain, Me and myEx; Me and herShadow; Me and Death; Me and MeShe; She and SheMe; Always one defining the other
Endlessly repeating binarysequency 2;4;8;16;32;64
Me playing my Commodore for the first time;
Me playing Bubble Bobble with 8-bit Nintendo with my meBro fearing Harry the whale;
UsThree twoBro and lilSis; meAdult hearing our braindamaged father talking about his second daughter;
meAdult wathcing Bubble Bobbles' end credits on youTube where those two soapDragons turn into little boys and meet their mayBe brides,
meAdult wathcing Bubble Bobbles' end credits where the lone parents are freed from their curse;
Me hoping for a while for a change in past; Me seeing many pastMe'es in same island bound by regret to keep wishing forever;
MeJason with only the echoe of Medeia blowing in the wind, sailing away from that Isle; meBB resinging from rewriting the past (hope I left some back doors for V)
meBB finding myShelf as prisoner in the Island; iteration of mePrisoner endlessly escaping from the Island, from the Cave, from the womb of my mothers
gaia, maria, maya, sofia, lillith, septemper, rhea, rita, strawberry, blueberry (savoring only the taste of grandmaBerry)
Oz, ziOn, Kansas, mk-Ultra, Soviets, 20th century, 4th century,
every Constant, every Instant, every InterruptIon, every preSent, every perManent presize precise,
every Backflash, every mothwing of every good side of m0nth personage, every Decade,
every minute moment, every temporal state, every temptation they offer us, every state of timezone, every just a second, every maypole and lingnum of sundial, every clockwork miracle, every robbed atomwatch, every single millenia, trought the aeons and yes, ons and ones, backwalking through the emanations of which the one doesn't cut and paste, birth of zero as a beacon in dark, rainbow through the crack, out of time, out of life, out of season, this is no Vivaldi, out of quick, hastely into shadow time, time of my life, time of death, entropic wheel and out of it, beyond the membrane of prime and primus, into sacral time, into the eteranal vellum with only time in my hands
* * * * * * * * * *
Calendar of Stars (In Nomine Astra, a mount of time)
pages of annuals, Legion, Centurio and bow
Alphamale, OmegaSlave, S&M, Rome,
Empire, Academia, Arcadia, Egon
Paradise, paraDice, Parasite and pisces
here the music of spheres is still, silently and harmoniously
like a metronomic positive piano track of western salloons playing though the pianoman has been shot (I'm fortunate it wasn't the seriff this time)
taking a shot and raising my head to get the glimbse of local axis mundi of the sky:
Shambu, Paramount, Mirrormountains, Holy Wood, Ash and Oak, Mount Sumeru, Empire State Bld,
Central Park linking linking linkging weawing the loom of fate purrr purrrr purrr
sundenly Back in Manhattan (meditating), to the Mars, familiar with doctors clockwork machine and quick cut back to the Ash of Midgard,
riding the ass of Sanscho, meMaster and masterMe fighting only giants where others see us leaving given time behind along the windmills,
meMillerAlvin and meChrist messing with other sailors, myCap'n has no name meCap'n has labyrinthine enigma in his chest,
staring the wonders of nightsky while having the watch duty on our deck, sailors be not fighting in the 70's policestation but dreaming in their matresses,
dreaming of their wifes and childrens, of their mistresses in ports, of the cabin boys sweet arse, of the deeps beyond the hull:
of the sharks and whales and sharkwhales, of the lampfish and swordfish and sciccorfish and her sisters,
pendrakes, flying fishes and blue turtles that carry disks on their backs, live in will be sewers and tubes and renaiSansly paint the creation
of the seahorses and protean creatures of preposeidonian time, dreams of the far shores and exotic isles and their inhabitants,
of the crossing of oceans, hanging on the cross of mr Polos tales, dreaming of the cap'ns wifes and wooden figurettes
below the pair in the Titanic, dreams of ice and bergs, hammers and fests, seadogs as goDly capn's
dreams of the parrots and rats under decks, games of carddecks, shapes of hearts, archytexture of departure, mythical America seadogs as greyhounds, dreams of notre dame, division bell and huchback, gibsy lady and ebenhaired maiden, santa maria and spice caravan, desert in the soft places, fiddlers green where sailors go if they drown
while they dream of the edge they all fear to fall off and void they are longing to fall into, drowning to the abyss.
Fishing in the blues sea of all souls, all emotions, all sentiments and all sufferings, meChrist hearing the music of Suzanne in my wooden tower, meKing hearing how the wind cries Mary in my Black Tower (or was it Stephen it's getting harded and harded to tell what came first), someChild playing Kings Quest III, someJoker meeting someTief, someChild watching Fantasia, meRaistlin smelling your sweet perfume of halftime while quietly and subtly planning ways of ashashing myMaster,
meRaistlin killing myMaster and revealing hourglasses of mYis,
meOidipus killing my father yet again. This time conningcly and consioucly without a guilt or fear of the conviction
without icy stare in my I's
rather with a warm smile of redemption on my lips, meRita laughting while she offers me the key and puts on her lipstick and make up (a store in new world)
* * * * * * * * * *
In the Previcious Episode (removing the scales from meyous' eyes/Is')
meKain brought to jUStice to get me into that prison, Me Calvin brought to justIce, UsCaibel and cAlvin laughting with Delight and Delirium,
meDying in your arms that night, meDying in you that night, you dying in me that night,
you saying me broke something in you or youme or meyou, what's meoyw?
why girls nowdays greet me with same exact scale of sounds in special moments, something has cha,changed, cave is singing with cylie,
third time is the charm, you dying by hands, metallicain and metaphorical hammer of silver, (ax,es for cutting the axis),
scales stem the libra in duat, synch the liber in the center of my dreaming,
42 godforms with their laws, would damn those if not the concequenses,
every tomb has same exact number according the book, handled down by pahraon mouth, written by the sinuhe,
different laws in each necropolis, but same number, 43 is for yantra number of dance and beauty, beoynd holly and sacral,
feather of my quill never scales with my heart, for myMouth doesn't cheat under the eyes of my faitfull anubis,
(egyptians used the book to memorice answers and cheat on final judgement), wish me gonna find a tomb that matches my honesty
so it's me doing time for eigth years in stead of seven for breaking a mirror, prison of medication and dolls house, now it's mollys house, all the same, this was to get the tattoo for freeing my brother for his should be imprisonment and conviction,
quick cut of minedeye: me touching your body so eagerly that Ii wish Ii were blind,
my dreaming-Iis' and me dreamingMind are weawing the tale while our bodies meld,
painting a myth with fingers, stealing and slowing time, feeling and sensing as one, breathing spirits of vast spectrum into you,
into youMe, into us, now and then,
in my memory and precognition,
in the physical ever presents,
in middle norn, weawer of all-now,
without any shalls or reviews of my passing fate,
diving into astral time, diving into cosmic time
diving into sacral time, diving into mythical time
me losing all the track of time, all the ranks of separation, yoga of tantric acid destroing the consept where either of us could begin or would end, any of us, just (please) the two of us, memories and separate names mingling for eternity, flashbacks of twobacked rainbowdeamon riding to fetch for some pizza, separation
quick cut back to bed, whoooau this is it, this time meFeel i... but the panels of past and future separation hang above me
like the sword of infamous D: MeYou dying in YouMe, mYmY, MyyM, ymmy, Meuoy, Youem, Me losting the track of permanent and metronomic time, Meuoym in endless fragments everywhere, Us every death and rebirth, Labyrinth of drownings, Lost in Arcade memories, 3 out of two, OdD numbers, 8 out of eleven,
Elvenorcish dreams of new arcipeloes, endlesness of nine months and skipping thet, ninth gate and birth pains, Eufrat and Tigris, city we buildt there, endlesness Baby lons of our childhoods, robinhoods, sparrowhoods, batmansions, maniac mansions, transylvanian counts and marquisess and barons (mu'ns and sade), inventing conditionilised mothers love, fathers love, brotherly love, sisterly loeve, parents love, idols love, love for idols, just and just bbearable family complexes, back in babylon, in sodomah, in gomorrah, in Ma Ma, in Ga Ga, in Ma Tri, in Oz, ziOn, throwing the forbidden fruit in the middle three faced love quiz, Artemis, Afrodite, Hera?... or Sane, Lame, Tame, Rain, Jane, Main, Cane, Vain, Lain, Lane, Pain, Dane, Train (of thoths / train yourMine thoughts for I've lost the track of third one...)
Jane was the twinSister MePhilip who died in the womb, Jane was ansibelbuilt intrconnective entitie who loved the Ender, Jane teached Tarzan how to read, Jane is in the backyard doing the outside dance, sings cap'n Robert "BuffaloSoldier" Marley who is blisfully dead and high, me is finally out of the womb and out of the kindergarden called babylon, no parents no elders, me being reborn and newborn as selfborn meyouall being my mother and other, what's left
only dead biomum who lives in her old dream,
live biobro who is in the prison,
flatlined biopa who still dreams in big scale of being zappa and y,
misty sister who is queen of her own underworld,
many loves, hopes and dreams reflected to ward me, me walkes between them, large labyrinth and a down the spiral, oblivious pyre of hellfire, guards that keep us apart as long as we hold them above us, when I'm blind and alone, you're with me and guide me,
oh, shadow of the spider how vast and complex you appear, don't you nkoow the grandmother is dead,
don't you bend to my will for will Ii have had, oh such a will, oh, me cant stand these endless tortures we must perform
to feed pathos to spectres, me cant stand when japanise sharks steal their memories, me cant stand these endless reruns and playlists,
me cant stand the high lunar blue note which makes even dead all-mother weep for her misscarriage, for dead child, for her inprisoned child,
for her deserted isle and rock that is me, for her warswallowed husbands and house musicians, for the mirrorimage of her undeniable shards
that point and pop out her unlife and whightly undeadness,
oh, matrix I beg thee, release us from watching your misery and trying not to hear your secret lovers that play your every string, for you are nothing but a silken, linnen, blastic, concrete, silvery, mercurian, visual, sensual, emotional bank of memories, surrounded by brick walls buildt by your lovers, as an image of you, you're but a cave where Eve weeps for her sons (and Mathew occasionaly vi-sits),
You are town made of class, glass and dreams, All-the-Ma'res and Da'es are sweeping the road and crying the river outside your cave
for they know that the child is out but the birthgiver lies inside
in deep desperation in a memoribank of pains and losts,
no more riddles from that isle, we are sailing away with homepathian drop of your tears, thnx mu, see ya again and try to have some breaks
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Wraiths tell the tale well, speaking from my skull while myself dreams
we have visited the weeping mother (at the moutains pain under the sea, hidden in the mist, in ultima thule - land of marshy dreams of mine) to see lady who holds her court there and knows all the remedies,
we have visited the lemurian theather of lost memories and the bard who sings under the hill in albion to keep the memory of past and future king alive,
for we are the sailers of shadows, greymates of clouds, we can tell the dead from living,
dreamers for wishers, wells from fountains, springs from mays, fools from wordsmiths,
lovers from warriors, hermits from archbuilders, waiters from hopers, souls from spirits,
animals from animations, statues from statusses, operas from windows, doors from carpenters,
winds from currents, sources from sourceries, stories from stores, smoke from water, stars from myths,
music from muses, seeds from fruits, leeches from cattle, angels from chains, demons from daemons,
dirgies from sonettes, lies from make beliefs, clowns from riddlers, jokers from disgracers, graces from crazies,
loose from cannons, noose from trees, moose from choose, limits from bets, autumns from falls, gargoyles from golems,
horses from riders, innuendoes from double meanings, seductions from courtings, desires from wants, art from artifacts,
sorries from regrets, night from day, terms from semesters, class from spellings, numbers from numbs, comfort from fever,
beauty from nothing
But when the telling is not enough we must sail with this circus, for we are the sandmen and we long for nightmares, for if deserted islands what we are
and where we claim our our heartland is not nourished by the rain we thread a mirages and dive into sea to claim our water,
for some kings build their houses on rocks and mountains but they tend to lost the keys of their kingdoms to greedy usurpers, conquerers, queer conners,
{hi john and sarah, what a pleasure to meet you here in sidelines, forgive our hurry and calm the wind, we are heading for the seas yet unknown, our master has lost the time of most intimate goodbyes and faretheewells, he cant escape the longing mourn nor chinese torture of water dropping to his forehead, waterboarding his face till his stomack feels the pain household abuse and boxing ring, for his land is filled with trajik songs of departures to night, his sister is fearing for him for she don't know him anymore, she doesn't know about his byways along the akanistha road
and big bang he caused that lead him to the pool, there are norns, fates and weawers (silken kismet is fortunate though) of his story
that would like to weawe loss, despire, nemesis and hubris into his story how we have wathced his growing and drowning, he has spent far too many aeons in the deepest pools shadow for any name to held justication to furter burden his punishment,
so john, so sarah, all the conners, walkers, weawers, carters, millers and hunters are to be gathered to nourish those who speak and strengthen his soul,
to hint those who empower his senses on spirits, to courage those who bring happiness back to his will and those who can disillusionate those who fear that feeding his heart doesn't give back equally tending remedy. For faith is not something he lacks nor is it sense of time nor is beautifull grace.
It's not wisdom nor vitality nor sense of humour that he is without. He has prepared for his voyage and visionquest by rejoycing, remembering, forgetting,
making love, weeping for feelings that were sunken and hidden but nevertheless hanging in underlines of history, reality and truth. He is ready to take his destiny into his own hands but while he owns his own time he cant pesuade the fates to give his hearts desires some time outside the machinery t hat runs the churchess, towns, schools, factories, seiren songs of bars and wasted years, tone two of the ´brave new world,
for freedom of choice towards intimate rendevouz lies forbidden from him though the mother is dead and this tapestr is but an egg shell}So dream my dear dreamers, dream for the freedom of prometheus and big brother, for the hatching of the egg, for the yellow brick roads, moonpaths, highways, subcities, strangers in crossroads, strawberry fields, lucies and alicies, guilds of rabbit riders, stick figures with spears, rainbows and wardrobes, for the magical fellow sun and her golden frames, silverscreen of newspapers and monitors, windows that meld into doors and gates, retrostuff that store best bits of older times, rollings of stones that don't feel like dylan expressed it, dream for the love, dream for the adventure, dream for the happy reunions, dream for free expression and novel age of information, dream with knowledge that your city dreams too and longs to whisper her most beautifull secrets and memories into your ears, dream of end of banality, dream of a new age of wonder
dream of love for he has the seen many things pointing towards the fact that he can't meet free love unless he predictates it, dream for end of this fact, dream of end of selfcaused unfortuné, dream of love for your own sake, for there is just one dance of opposites
