the room turns whiter than white
the creams fly to white
the whites become silver
the silver becomes light
the light becomes me
and i
i become.
the mayans
the lemurians
the civilizations lost in jungles
their geometry
the mathematics
their endogenic plants
their exogenic knowledge
downloading rapidly
calculations
numbers revolve
the beautiful rivers of singing fish
the jaguars
the snakes
the knowledge of natural things
sweet balance
respect
gentleness
the healing arts
the visions
the prophecies
objects wrought from what…and how?
magic
deep magic
the faint chatter of living dna
against the background of wind and birds
all things in communication
everything changing by thought alone
the shadowy world of men as illusion
the bright light fills my body
i am truly ecstatic
oh gift from gods
speak to us in million ways
yoga
childbirth
the sky
the heavenly bodies
the magic plants
through chance
through chants
through the physical acts of love
through meditation
through the chi/prana
through the creatures
through architecture
through sacrifice
through discipline
through courage
through desperation
blue becomes neon turquoise
green becomes ultramarine
black becomes liquid void
spacemen and ancestors
gnawing my ear off
whispering at hi-speed download
the sound of a mental internet connection
the power suddenly fills me with fear
i remember to breathe breathe breathe
the swedish word for breath and spirit is the same
what will death be like?
what was life like?
different for us all
the materialist will go kicking and screaming
the yogi will blissfully attain emancipation
the rest of us in some hospital
thinking
can this really be it?
that day
that day i knew was coming
that day i have watched steadly approaching
only as is natural, though….
george harrison sang about the art of dying
is there an art?
is it letting go?
is all art a letting go
and is all letting go an art?
the power senses my resistance
i concentrate
i breath out
i let go
as much as an uptight egotistical silly old hippy can
ah
the power takes me
come then it says
what had frightened me before
now swirls around me
my body which was ice
is now a warm potent fire
my blood floods my hands n feet n face n cock
a wave of delicious erotic thoughts
women before my eyes and other females
of some indeterminate origin
space ladies with electric fingers
still the computations go on and on
the power sizes me up
and it reckons and relays
alien aztec-like women
kiss me
straddle my mind
the machines continue to operate
the seeming of organic structure
the alien strumpets are repulsively non human
but deliciously obscene
they writhe and giggle and swoop and disappear
an incredible excited calm falls over me
i see processions
i see markets
i see ceremonies
oh south america
oh peru
oh brazil
oh ecuador
how did i end up so far away?
oh lemuria
this cold and distant future is hurting hurting hurting me
this mad world
but my sorrow is detached
an ache i can feel but which no longer has any hold
like my broken arm
like my broken heart
like my broken promises
the power says
yes you are a fool
while i bathe in its silvery heat
while i float bouyed by the power of some other world
vishnu appears on the steps of another gods temple
not in india but here here here
in south america
jesus too
i see him
dressed in colourful clothes
tripping in the jungle
caressing the snakes
walking with the panthers
out of his mind on love
the love of it all
before this could be dreamed up at all
the sheer love
my mind has separated from my body
my spirit has separated from my mind
my past has come out of my spirits tongue
it whispers it to my mind
and my body trembles in awe
my body relaxed beyond earth and fire and water and air
my body heavy clumsy temporary
my mind rigid ignorant under-utilized
but trying and crying
my spirit
ineffable
the same spirit
everywhere nowhere
cant see it cant cut it cant burn it
my spirit
that great actor
animating flesh through will and love
pretending to be forgetful
it raves to my mind
my mind agitates my body
i pick up my pastels
i pick up my bass guitar
the spirits gossip
turns itself into ideas
which travel electrically
through mysterious meridians
and at some faraway place
kilbey writes a painting
or paints a song