when the aerial spirits of the airy domains burn down to earth

and the necropolis releases its prisoners

and great green heads rear from the boiling seas screaming for more man

when hands reach out of solid stone and roots of rock curl round your calves

when typhon materialises upon the storm

and his black gaze falls upon your white soft skin

and shrieking winged monkeys are loosed like darts from apollos bow

when wicked women and 100 proof whisky obliterate reason

when this world revolts against idiots who continually rape her

they desire only one thing that is total ruination

when terrible weapons are unleashed upon child and beast

when bad men dream their bad dreams of death and blood

(oh the bloodlust cannot be satiated

though it is within us

it can be conquered with abstinence )

when the end is suddenly here like you always knew it would

and beyond the end is the start of god knows what

and god has granted us this autonomy

no we have granted it to ourselves

when this autonomy is recalled by some god in his anger perhaps

or by some dark star who with its rays causes our will to weaken

when eternal night descends dressed in purplish clouds

as if wrought by some heaving hephaestus who hated us inhuman

and that night is cold and bitter full of ice and filthy snow

factories belching out apocalyptic gaseous kisses to the old sad poor grey skies

when sleep and death cannot be found inside a pill or shot

when sleep and death cannot be obtained even on the waiting lists

when sleep and death have been lost in the postponement

when sleep and death can be bought only on black markets

when sleep and death have been denied . please resume your work!

then

you’ll find me on birthday island

strolling with the lord

composing a psalm beneath his blessed palms

in dusks which will last forevers

in mornings of century seconds

in the golden noon of his gorgeous day

gardens of the dead and beautiful

flowers beneath that burning royal blue firmament

the crushing crimson sunsets strip glory from the dying day

and rainbows bridge horizon to horizon

and in silvery midnights you’ll find me in my small abode

in certain yoga asanas invoking this gods grace

or in the darkness with some heavenly consort

with hands of velvet and whispers of moon

adorned with galaxy strings and cosmic oomph

yes i see her now through slitted future eyes

the congress of ying thing with yang thang

bang!