the flowers are growing inwards
their beauty is only to impress themselves
i understand at last their terrible sadness
the colours the perfumes the shapes
at night i wander in the astral
i see it all
the crooked past
the potential present
the over future
the next future with its tricks and deceits
the future which never comes with its robots named gladys
i wander through the citizens bedrooms
ha ha i glide thru all walls like thru a gossamer web
invisible and inaudible
i see their snoring and desperate attempts at love
i see their perversions and their peccadilloes
who cares…i am a free spirit
wouldnt you love to float over the sea and land
a weightless energy and intelligence
i go wherever i want
but things stand in my way
doubt for one
fear for another
stupidity for a third
i hurl myself into unknown gardens
and some monster is roused from its deep pool
it comes slithering across the lawns to me
i think no this cant be happening
the thing bites into me with its filthy fangs
i scream out in my bed
i fall a thousand miles
i wake up covered in an icy sweat
quickly i’m up and at my journal
recording all the data n statistics of my flight
how i was re routed due to black angelic static
how i soared above troy and saw how small it really was
how i lived my long lives in ignorance and pride
now i know the language of the cricket and the lark
now i have penetrated the heart of an oak
now i fly where i will at night
riding the backs of the waves
i jump aboard a huge fish
which moves through the equatorial seas like a leviathan
i move cautiously thru old siam
to some here i may be detectable
morning finds me in deserted ruins of temples within a jungle
i walk thru lemuria seeing it as it was
i visit nineveh again out in the desert
stupid proud nineveh
i tell you your god is a piece of clay
make of him what you will
fashion him into vishnu
fashion him into jehovah
fashion him into the sweet lord baby jesus
fashion him into baal
leave him inchoate
leave him to someone else to finish
the spirit possesses me right now
he has commanded me to write these words
i wonder why he doesnt do it for himself
i wonder who’ll get aurora a piece of toast if i’m all possessed
you wonder too much
and
do too little
i suppose
suddenly back in sydney australia
where some of me is still stationed
a huge black cloudburst opens up its nasty mouth
and spits out dark rain drops coming down hard above you
the other kids wake up
running out of the room
still asleep
looking like the most beautiful children in the world
eves tiny tiny ears and her tangled chestnut hair
shes from tir na nog i am sure of it
a celtic faery type
i am not joking
aurora is more from lyonesse
shes more continental with her blonde hair n brown skin
scarlet should be puck
a real impish childe
complete with a rotten temper
and liable to do anything
me.. ?
some shabby oberon
some throneless old fisher king
casting my spells and nets
down by a bleak shore at dawn
walking through the crimson n purple bushes
yesterday elementals cause sydneys power to shut down
the shops all dark n empty
the traffic speeding and chaotic
i see a magazine and on the front is U2
adam whatsit looking like a glum solicitor
and mercifully out of focus and paul bono hewson
with his nanny goat beard and smudged mascara
(an awful combination, fashionistas!)
and his grizzly olde head
and with a frightening look in his bloodshot eyes
oh my god! and this is the photo they approved…?!
and his quote about not throwing tvs out of windows
but rather buying the company who makes the tv….
and then i remember why i loathe em
and suddenly i remember how incredibly silly they actually are
and yeah im jealous of their vast fortunes
but i’m sorry
they are now officially silly
silly silly silly
i mean …bono…..c’mon
its silly, right….?
the edge……oh fer crying out loud…the edge
have you ever seen a less edgy man in your life?
hes more like the window sill
or
the chair
or the card table
sorry men called the edge or bono or sting…
you wont see the killer with a silly nickname…ooops!
so thats it
recording more of my multi media madness round at jordens
notwithstanding powerstrikes or viral strikes
or 3 strikes and we’re all out
good morning to you
wake up
its all over