HIV (A PSYCHODRAMA)   2

sleeping under tundra, denuding duvet thunder, with a heart of redtime summer, our weeping
hearts accord; accord to the lamplight, the winter coming softly: sleeping under tundra,
denuded sleep records.
 
this is the sickness of Heady Invitro Varnish; HIV by any other name would still paint thick.
snoring under lightning, with an eye of death devising, sleeping under tundra, duvet thunder
clicks. though we be sure, sure that Love is Hero Nero, sleeping under tundra, our souls attain
no spire.
 
Chapel of Love, cathedraline weft of widow; snapping as we snooze, the socket lover wails:
Xanadu, no paradise, just masturbation in a window: sleeping under tundra, duvet thunder
rails; rails as severed hammers bang in nailed masectomy, bang and bang again, with lover's bed a moon away: sleeping under tundra, denuding duvet thunder, Xanadu, no paradise, snores into
decay.

Halo Heaven? then what for motile angels, what for cherubs, seraphs, what for Victorian War?
No, less motile angels than strangeness being strangled; less the child made holy than murder
on the moor. though we are sure, our hearts go out on empty, though we are sure, our hearts
run out of heat. though we are pure, pure as passion's enemy, denuding duvet thunder, the
angels' hearts don't beat.

Demnos, cloven bastard, barterer in God's linen, cut from cord at centre, umbilical kings die by.
time was the proof lay in schemes of Lenin, now, cut cord at centre, the schemes lie in the sky.
summing up summer from a sickling enemy, doing our buttmost to drive away the Lord, no
man is the all of us, the cemetery core of us, the sickla, the Hitler, the Samson in the forge.

duvet thunder, what brought night so dear to us? where in the bed did death of light
revere? what for the best of us, the alabastic breast of us; what for the serpent, the breaker of
the spheres? duvet thunder, what brought night so near to us? where in phallic latency does
our humour lie? what for the grave in us, the orthodoxic gay in us; what for the forsaker, the
Maker in the eye?

nobody knows just where sex came from; doing what it will, sex is a laugh; no! sex is chaos;
the science of Hubris: sex is a doctor the acid atom's bath. coming on soundly, sex is
automaton; sex is the cradle of iron gone wrong - Heady Invitro Varnish, sex is all sickness;
HIV by any other name would rise against the strong.

this is the song of Los, the Blakeian Apocalypt, rather, this is shit-dip, the sheep demesne gone
blind: world under world, the weal of sex is Shibbolith: sex is daughterback, the nickle fish in
brine. searching for passion when all is Pornograph: Internet darling, can you tell me your
name? Duvet Thunder?! God knows, the best is lumber: all sex is spinal puncture, is
pornosapphic shame.

Sleeping, always sleeping, doing our best to suffer, doing our best to wash before our bodies
foul: Eliot, Sweeney - coconut will copulate - best to have no children than to wear an urban
cowl. true, pure, sure, how hearts reach out forever; reach out across the void to find a
wedded light! No, no marriage enters, just madness epicentre: the young reach out for
everything, reach out & touch the knife.

denuding Duvet Thunder, sleeping insane forever, reapwalking like a terrorist, parading death in
Love: no more, just screaming peeples, the pupils under seagulls, scavengers, destroyers, haters;
dementia in the bud.

coming on hotly, red Woman earns her tampons, coming on redly, womankind is owned by all:
time was the girl of ages wrote love on molten pages; time was once all love, now the heat of
love must fall.

Duvet delusion, duvet thunder, duvet denusion, divan number: slagma, smegma, petrolleum
lampage: 666, the sensual soul meets outrage, 666, the sexual soul meets outrage, 666, the
sensitive soul meets shoutrage, 666, the enteric soul meets shoutrage
 UH/
..

 ..

 APOCALYPTIC? 

As cold slowed men meld sin with hymns, then a sea of limbs

Will shatter

O, when once old sin sucks false quims, then a tree of swings

Swings where clutter

Feeds wind to sex butter. 

Ssss.

Buttresses bend bairns where idiot abusers cry for shutters

And, loathed, a red barn breaks fire inside sainted lovers

Ah.

And cold slain hens crackle as coded pigmen suck saviours,

And, o, as fast wrens fight for a dead war,

Then, rogued, raping roses reap rope from a sea of fathers

And I will jack my fathers

Sss. 

Buttresses dagger inside a feather

And, made old, a fascinating mirror shines where leather

Disappears.

*

As entertaining sparrows feel for fast winds, then

Blamed minds melt, and a river inside women must

Raise rope from delved

Dolly mixtures

O, as entertaining meadows drown, then sex rust

Feeds metals to mirrors

                        Lo.

I will centralise an empty animal

Lo, I will rend my eyes inside a faking mammal

And, when once eyes die,

Then flowed fast lies will sunder my sky,

And there is nothing inbetween us…

Ssss.

            As enterprising dagger men drink dust

The fierce fishmen suck dolls from drunk dust’s

Strange vision

            Uhh.

            Bled bulled men summon sleep where

            Red skulled hens roast on a stair,

And mad muscling madams melt, and prayer

Summons ghosts to shared

Gods and semen

            Laaahh

            As slain summer birds break, then

            Blinded blondes bust out from women

 

*

O, when god has a sex ghost, then a river raised from loafs

Shapes skulls from dragons

And, la, when god has a sex host, then a mirror raised from coke

Coaxes death with wagons,

O, my Spanish father feeds fists to fishy nets, and soap

Crashes inside a cradle

Sss, when once a lady river dies, then a sea in a candle

Cracks.

            And a birthday candle in the skies lashes

Hands and rats

Sss 

When once god has a sex ghost, then pinioned dopes

Stone coded loved cats,

                        And I hear lovers pawing sparks where bats

Claim cunny from slain packed

Pussies

            La.

            Endless vast flyways cry outside a free way

            And strobed boys drive where slept graves

End.

 

*

As fishermen of mermen writhe inside

Oceania

O, as fishermen of fast quim wed lies

Then closing sea rivers hire nets to eyes,

And, as fishermen of sex hens hear Ides

Come running from red rain,

Then vast veering fished kicks raise

Nude minds from brains

Sss

 

As viscous seahangers crash, then graves

Must glow like sleep,

And fast star damners dream of old days

And old days are loud now

            Uhh.

            Occupants of aliens fly, and mad space will ride

A naked open moon

And, laid, a sea of dunes drags ships from

Gear, and fat fastening feather men always collide with

Dogs and moonlight

Sss.

 

Naked nude minds melt into lamp life

And, coned, a rocket in silk flies inside space-light

And, domed, a rocket of milk

Crashes,

And sex milk is shed

Uh.

 

As nut raids nut the harder, then milk raids will tread

Gulls and razors

And here now is my dimetrodon.

 

*

O, as an endless muscle cries for rain, then a neon city

Slays sex with pity

O, as a trendless tussle cries, then veined rained ladies

Cut lips from a deity

Sss.

 

Endless men folk smack emptying sea family, and

Where once killer trees fall from false hands, then

Wed wetted bed posts

Whip the clayed buttocks of god’s host

And motels ring as sleek dresses dress lost

Girl hirelings

                        …

            I will centralise hands and heels as a sea in a cross

            Collapses,

            Oo, I will enter sand as hawed whored sex moss

                        Picks a sea from a lady

Uh gilded guilty cosines caress mown babies, and Loss

Drags deaths for hot cold laid bees

                                    Ssss.

            I cannot summon summer from a flower,

            I will never summon winter from snows

And, lo, as lazy naked lovers suck a sea of hours     

Then naked nude scissors will suffer chilled crows

And I am led where tauran Spain hears slain need

Come shooting bulls in the West,

And, lobed, a sea of gulls cries for rings as death

Dreams of a failed genie

Sss.

            As powders in a bottle chafe, then Rex

            Owns a pet dragon,

            As peddlers in a kettle rape, then Death

            Owns a dimetrodon,

            And, eyed, dinosaurs in a drum deck

            Jack reptilian summer guns

Ehh?

            I cannot summon summer from a flower,

            I will never summon winter from snows

And, o, as a dizzy book of hours sucks chilled crows

Then snaky naked scissors will sink knives where droves

            Slice home bake

            And me and macadam will shoot and shake

                        Outside

                        Whirlwind eyes

            And me and macadam will shoot and shape

                        Inside

                        Whirring sea tithes,

                        ,

END.

 

* 

AND DEATH IS NOT THE END? 

And death is not the end

When once breath kills friends

Then death is not the end

And death on you depends

O

 

And death is not the end

Where once the moon attends

Lunar dogs

Then bitten shied cores

Send sex to God

And men seek festive Blood

And death weds Lovers

O

 

And death is not the end

When once breath intends

Dolls and false skin, then men

Draw daggers from children

Sss

 

Whence carnival spun sin

Sucks pigs, then rude hymns

Cry, cry, cry,

And death is not the end

And death has killed friends

Sss

 

The lion’s den seems skinned

By dud coastal cats

And me and sin hire old rats

To sunder me

And death is not the end?

 

*

O, as I survive my mind, then roasted women

suck hangers...

 ****

After a nut raid, a city inside a blind lay

Sucks old juice

O, after a beer strangles a noose, then day

Will dawn like a loosed

Hot headed female kitchen

Uh. 

And, after seashores fail, then dying slaves

Shape nudity from classrooms

And, uh, as naked staffrooms die, then spoons

Swirl where wax fingers swoon

And my house will rot where a teaspoon

Stirs babies

Sss.

 

Endless emptiness cries as woven glass ladies

Die, die, die.

 

O And as slain soft graves raise us

Then, burned, cremated babes break us

O, as a saline city cries, then

Blazed, a sea of spies sucks old dust

Sss. 

Me and madam moon hear old lust

Crying, and as stars cry then sex rust

Drags dolls for kittens

 

O, and as slain soft graves raise us

Then, turned, cell dating hears bad cuts

Digging sex and empties

Uh. 

Me and father moon hear cold lust

Writhing, and as stars slide then musk

Sucks elephant tusks

And cows, closed, claim gods where

Blanched blancmanges bend prayer

And we sleep on the stair.

 

*

This dared sunrise suffers hot scented pain

O, as a moon in disguise cries, then

Devils in eyes weep tides

And, la, when once cold tides die, then

Bad boats go insane

Sss.

 

This dared sunrise suffers hot rented shame

Oo, as a gun in a rise drives, then shot flame

Must suffer gods and snakes

And, lain, slain sawn swans will shake, shake, shake

Sss.

 

A city inside a tomb must bury live lusts

A lady inside a womb must cry where dust

Sends scents homeward

And I will blaspheme where screwed birds

Dig pecked egged curves

Oo.

 

I have overheard cruel kittens crying for rain,

Ah, I have overheard fooled gibbons

And I have heard both fire and flame, and

Trendless lazy veins must

Bring me home again

And I have heard sex inside its name.

 

Laa, I harden where blind love raises pain

Lo, I summon summer when seized hot rain

Sends flowers to sleep,

And I heard both fire and flame, and

Endless hazy filled men must send sleep

Outside a sea of sex shame

And I seem insane

Oh?

 

Sucked slain swarms duck down as sound

Dies away, away,

And I have seen both fire and flame

And I know now that we are insane

And ashes slice eyes as vineyard names

Disappear…

 

*

As excess sucks sad life, then a sea of roses

Raises scent from Christ

O, as excess cuts a wife, then a tree of light

Cuts caves from posies, and fled flown night

Sucks bright dreams

And, lain, slain sex rubies scream

And, maimed, I have seen seized screens

Sss.

 

As excess cries, then rocks flow from bright

Withering sea slides

And, robed, a sea of dives drags dun sprites

And blown boys writhe

Uh.

 

As excess rides, then a hot faked war drives

Homeward

 

And we are riding in the rain

And we are kissing storms of pain

And we are cutting caressers from salt veins

Sss.

 

I overheard guns as a gilled goddess rained

Down, down,

La, I overheard suns as one billion names

Drowned, and

Old scathed minds glow like the blind

And, as bright as hands, a sea of minds

Dies

Ohm.

 

I have heard men at the very break of time

                   Emptying fished female wine

..*

I will always suffer for you

O, I will stand beside you, and I will see you

Suffer fire and flame, and

I will always suffer for you

Sss.

 

When once bad bairns rock in a shoe

Then I, stabbed, will sire a slain noosed

                   Parrot…

 **** 

MSN, HALT
(after Jim Morrison's
The Unknown Soldier)

Make a grave for the LAN-mine soldier
Nestled in your web-searched shoulder
The LAN-mine soldier.

Breakfast where the net is read
Televisual kids misled
Malformed living loves undone
Bullets strike their hyper lung

And it's all over for the LAN-mine soldier
And it's all over for the LAN-mine soldier
err-uhhhh.

MSN, halt

And it's all over for the
LAN-mine soldier.
Yahoo!
uh

do spiders end?

* 

 BLOOD SONG (by jim bellamy)

Bearing loaves & fishes, going gung-ho for the Son, into rooms of tender,
the moon fires like a gun: set in Cimmerian slaughter, like a flunkey
diamond filled with chaff, slittering the wrists of daughters, the Ghosts
of Judas flash. Are u going to the Summer Seance? Are u going to the
Summer Seance? Are u going to spend time with the ghouls of abeyance? Are
u going to the Summer Seance? Mute in verbal gossamer, snapping twigs with
zen-eyed glee, pastelling after spider tombs, the Christ of Heroes swims
the sea: dread is the thunder's whisper, motors thrum in eyes above;
slittering the wrists of tarantula riders, the Ghosts of Judas deny all
love. Are u going to the Summer Seance? Are u going to the Summer Seance?
Are u going to spend time with the ghouls of abeyance? Are u going to the
Summer Seance? Eighteen lazy pharaohs, like sickle spies, cleave pyramidic
dreams: pyrrhic victory under rainbow, the sword of duty breaks its
scream: screened on widow windows, like a seminal river maundering by,
slittering the wrists of iron sidlers, the Ghosts of Judas siren high. Are
u going to the Summer Seance? Are u going to the Summer Seance? Are u
going to spend time with the ghouls of abeyance? Are u going to the Summer
Seance?

Late in graves of powder, setting no store to the cannon of doubt, sat led
ded in canyon chowder, the clamerine angels spume & pout: summoning
sermonics from sulphur, like a wheat-eyed fairy, Mary sighs: slittering
the wrists of Zion's pariahs, the Ghosts of Judas haunt & fry. Are u going
to the Summer Seance? Are u going to the Summer Seance? Are u going to
spend time with the ghouls of abeyance? Are u going to the Summer Seance?
No more to fields of rapine azure, no more to Indians spitting rhyme: no
more the gas, the permeable prism: no more the light inside the spine: no
more the spike-skeined sentries, no more the soldier in the lung: no more
the leather under breath, no more the lovelorn graves of cum. With beauty
under cancer, a rose tattoo of bludgeoned fear, the metal Ghosts of Judas
rise upwards from the spheres. Are u going to the Summer Seance? Are u
going to the Summer Seance? Are u going to spend time with the ghouls of
abeyance? Are u going to the Summer Seance? Are u going to the Summer
Seance? Are u going to break thru to spiritual pleasance? Are u going to
the Summer Seance? Are u going to the Summer Seance?

ahhhhh....

Knife the sun, lady, knife the sun; you know the rules, now go on the run
-life destroys as peace defines - come take the womb & make it grind.
knife the sun, lady, knife the sun; you know the rules, now go on the run.

The moon gets cold & the stars grow older; no more the moon, just look
over your shoulder - the darkness maims as the summer declines - no more
the womb, just destruction in the mind.

Your palls of white are closing, lady; four palls of death, four palls of
closet red - night is the madness, all-deposing - no more the womb, just
destruction in the head - we've seen the summer climbing softly - the
truth is dreaming, a million tombs behind - no more a life, just birth in
rumour's posing; no more the womb, just destruction in the light.

Knife the sun, lady, knife the sun; knife the sun, lady, knife the sun;
knife the sun, lady, knife the sun; knife the goddamn sun. come on a trip
& the acid heart shall seize; come on a trip & the heart shall greet
disease; come swallow rot & sense the heart run red; come swallow rot &
see the child run dead.

Knife the sun, lady, knife the sun; knife all the men you've ever won;
knife at the wards, at the hospice in the lung; knife all the men you've
ever won.

Loved loud women, always did; loved loud women since just kids; -
come take this Lord away; loved reeled crime since we raped day.

Inveigal my territory as if it were sanity, strike at my history as if it
were air: summon up demons, let music murder me: in the sun's charity, let
madness flare. Pall walls around me seek to find security: locked in a
cage, the bird within me sings: inveigal my territory as if it were
sanity, strike at my history, sever my wings.
I never knew the sun of
Simeon, I never felt the world inside my words: truth is all darkness, an
artless state of sentience: a nightbird in purdah, my soul denies its
verve, suffers under murder & buckles into sadness, leprous as a sinner
whose senses curve.
Pall walls around me seek to find security: locked in
a cage, the bird within me sings: inveigal my territory as if it were
sanity, strike at my history, sever my wings.
As if I ever knew the
gunshine of moving, as if I ever knew the bullet laid bare: as if I ever
knew the riflers at my pocket: seldom knowing any, no God on high answers
my prayers.
Pall walls, or is it something close to recusance; something
close to subvention that makes my soul decry? To search for passion's
sentence is all & all love's presence: pall walls, or is it fury; more,
the devil in love's eye? Never finding thunder, just stalking after
ravens: setting no light to harvest, this song of ether reaps the poor:
lying backwards in a chamber, seeking moons in wells of night, the life I
lead is seldom waking, its breastmost way, a cloven spite.
Pall walls,
endless under prism; a prison of spectral torture, the gaoler's hands
decree: sermoned under lightning, struck dumb by passion's raping,
entombed in endless blackness, this man of bone receives.
Pall walls
around me seek to find security: locked inside a cage, the bird within me
sings: inveigal my territory, strike down my destiny; let go the spires
that music might win.
...
This is Planet Birth: let no man tell you birth is glad: this is Planet
Birth: let no woman make you sad.

Under fire & under azure, Planet Birth
is all to see: let no man tell you birth is plenty; Planet Birth came from
the trees.

This is Planet Birth: umbilical as lust, the cradle's yawn
disproves: this is Planet Birth: let no child tell you birth's amused:
under mud & under oil, Planet Birth denies its toil: let no God tell you
birth is plain, Planet Birth came from the rain.

Planet Birth, Planet
Birth, Zioning in the Dark, beneath the earth, like ded zephyrs from red
skies, Planet Birth comes flailing by: wailing under hammered sirens,
beneath the sun, the earth must fail: Planet Birth, Planet Birth, let no
gladness see birth wail.

In the tombyard, sundergrinding, abortive as the
Son of Love, Planet Birth, Planet Birth, Planet Birth, the boom of blood
drops here... See Less?!!!!

 

 copyright 2019.

 Boytown story...

if u should sleep about a thousand years; if u should pay a billion pounds
in bent arrears; if u should carry your jewellry in a bad swag bag,
u'll
be doing the hedonist rag. if u should fly on a plane to distant climes;
if u should drink from a bottle of vintage wine; if u should dabble in
diamonds while waving a flag, u'll be doing the hedonist rag.
hedonist,
hedonist, hedonist rag - the less u do, the more u'll have - hedonist,
hedonist, hedonist rag - the less u prove, the more u'll stab.
if u should
masticate a dinner in scarlet spain; if u should build a cellar in the
darkest vein; if u triumph over others thru smoking a fag, u'll be doing
the hedonist rag.
if u should heal the rich while decrying the poor; if u
should deal in wealer-deals without a cause; if u should try your best to
stamp out the mad, u'll be doing the hedonist rag.
hedonist, hedonist,
hedonist rag - the less u do, the more u'll have. hedonist, hedonist,
hedonist, hedonist, hedonist - hedonist stab...

Lady at the crossroads weeping, by your troth, you are in keeping with the
stars and all their souls - lady at the crossroads, roll.
lady at the
crossing mount, by your troth, you are in count with the dreams that
sailors have, as they sail on seas of crabs.
lady, lady, take to me and save me; lady, lady, u and i were one; lady, lady, take to me and save me;
lady, lady, u and i were one.
lady at the crossroads weeping, farriers
shall stave your sleeping, and the heavens up above shall acclaim u in your love. lady at the crossing fount,
time and tide shall swathe the
mount, and the tears shall fade away, as the tyranny decays.
lady, lady,
take to me and save me; lady, lady, u and i were one; lady, lady, take to
me and save me;
lady, lady, u and i were one.

lal-lee-lal-lal-lah, lal-lee-lal-lal-lah, lal-lee-lal-lal-lah, lal-lahhh
in streets of penates malice, i laid down on the way; for privateers in
palace, pirates sired my grave. weeping in a truckstop, with my guarding
angel gone, like the ever-yearning clock, i never bore a son.
lal-lee-lal-lal-lah, lal-lee-lal-lal-lah, lal-lee-lal-lal-lah, lal-lahhh.
on a rillside stands a funster, with ways not human-made - in his heart,
he is a teamster who sings a serenade. for a walk upon an ocean, this
funster will give all, but as time implodes in motion, this funster's on
the fall.
lal-lee-lal-lah-lah, lal-lee-lal-lal-lah, lal-lee-lal-lal-lah, lal-lahhh.
my boytown story's over and my mother has gone home. such is the law of
lovers, that this story moves no stone. for a pocketful of misery, i
ravelled on the sea - as much as rhyme is ended now, this boytown murders
me.

lal-lee-lal-lal-lah, lal-lee-lal-lal-lah, lal-lee-lal-lal-lah,
lie-lie-lee-lie.

THE END

 *

Copyright 2019

 *SPATIAL SUMMER - A CURTAL SEQUENCE BY JIM BELLAMY

Spatial summer - led ded asteroids collide & bruise: a comae on a fender,
like ashen love, our vehicle lords disprove. Set red beneath the hashpipe
- a sigma seance - the ghasted gods conceive: spatial summer - like
wicked truth, the ark of death deceives. Demnotic mumma, semen drummer,
when once the ghost began, what news?
In which angled park of angels; beneath which road did time confuse?
Under dicta, under spanish fervour,
which the sword of light

that carries us back home.
Spatial summer, sunder, thunder; dogdayed rite, which way love's dome?
Spatial, the sickle, first purdah ghost of israel; spatial, the number,
the cretaceous hero's war; spatial, stained suckotash, skein of
ultraviolet; spatial, adolf stickla, the scream behind the maw.
Spatial, demeter, ruined ruby of red sacrifice; spatial, the void, the
glove-gleamed scent of hero's death; spatial, the winter, the staining
artifice of emptiness; spatial, spatial sumner, doom deriver in the fuse
of breath.
Whispered acritudes in ferment, such are the fusions love can't keep: sat
in churches full of eagles, led ded as summer, death dements our sleep.
Sapt at veinmost, thundered under metal, scarlet under sadness, our
laughing heroes wail. Like a womb-tomb ghostling, burned where birth is
madness, a knifeling in a rumour, this spatial summer rails.
Spatial summer, drummer, sunder, thunder - slammed in hatred's hand, the
Freudian chieftan rules: sirened under mania, in a bonded state of
failure, under dreams of empty hallways, hallucination spools. Spatial is
our fusion, spatial, our confusion: spatial, sickness summons; in petrol
pools, we hear light's flames:
spatial is our rumour, the coming of all humour:
spatial, our cloven vestuaries, our schemings under rain.
Licking the phallic towers, coming down from dementia,
our spatial drum, denied in beats of maternitizing scream, like the
druggard gut round the heart of the sun, dignifies the ghoul in the pastel
wards obscene;
slitting wrists of powder, letting no ghost go.
Spatial summer, drummer, sunder, thunder: slammed in hatred's hand, our
summer truths forego.
Spatial, the sickle, first locker ghost in scarlet;
spatial, the number, the cretaceous hero's war; spatial, drained
suckotash, skein of ultraviolet; spatial, adolf stickla, the dream behind
the maw.
Spatial, demeter, ruined ruby of red sacrifice; spatial, the void, the
love-lamed scent of hero's death; spatial, the summer, the staining
edifice of emptiness;
spatial summer, doom deriver - led ded fission under breath.
Spatial summer, zero thunder, spatial, spatial summer:
spatial summer, delusion; fusion sunderer,
spatial, spatial summer....

Meadow baby logic, madam hypnogogic: baby, lady, Sexy Sadie's rocket; for
these bad fruits, I rail & sail into a century of masochistic sockets; &
then the shogun berry rolls, rocks & rolls adown my pickled chin, & meadow
baby is Sexy Sadie & Sexy Sadie sires me a meadow wind, & meadow is mellow
& meadow is yellow & meadow baby logic is a chinless halo, & meadow baby
is Sexy Sadie & Sexy Sadie is meadow baby king.
Meadow baby logic, madam hypnogogic: baby, lady, Sexy Sadie's rocket;
gorillas going sonic are the sermons in a bonnet, & meadow baby,
crabber-locker lady, is pornographic sonnet to the sea, & pornographic
sonnet is a rocket going sonic & rocket going sonic is a mad oak tree, &
Sexy Sadie is crabber-locker lady & crabber-locker lady is meadow baby
spring & crabber-locker springtime spreads its wings.
Meadow baby logic, pornographic sonnet: baby, lady, crabber-lock laconic;
if I take me to a dance, shall the crabber-lockers rave; if I take me all
a prance, shall a crabber lock my grave? & if Sexy Sadie ain't meadow
baby, might the crabber-locker lady cry? & if meadow baby ain't Sexy
Sadie, might the crabber-lockers reach the sky?
.....
Spatial summer, spherical azure void:
in the screams of endless thunder,
time's red asteroid,
like a scarlet sickle rumour, lams aside the sun:
like a womb of endless number, the tomb within us drums.
Moon, dawn opus,
forest forge of metal heroes:
deep in dogday crucifix, the ark of summer burns;
like a tauran epitaph, with destruction slit in mind,
under domes of lightning, the dreams of summer grind.
Coda lantern, language in denial -
light, what for the hearse of God?
In which room of leather, under which dark wing of tides,
beneath which summer river, does the dark avenger ride?
Spatial summer, stabbing force of
fuse inside the head:
wind swiper, sweeping softly, how now shall recusancy tread:
what for the metal peeples, the hedoned herods under glass:
what for steepled injun stones,
what for bones beneath the vast?
I am the one who opened the sun, I am the one
who opened the moon,
I am the one who opened the tongue,
I am the one who opened the womb,
I am the one with eyes on empty,
I am the one with zen-tithed skin,
I am the one with eyes on enemy,
I am the one with lizard sin,
I am the one with snake-skin sentries,
I am the one with snake devise,
I am the one with
the no. on my casket,
I am the one with
rattlesnake eyes.

Spatial summer, endless sunderer,
thunder rumba queen, come lend me penury,
shend away the spheres behind all wonder,
thunder rumba queen, come lend me century;
rend away the asp, the Abaddon sheet,
rend, shend, bend; burn the summer from
my meat.
I am destruction, a circuit circus
turning endless:
I am seduction, the bud of Oedipal demise:
777 is the no. on the transept, 777 is the no. on the sun,
777 is the no. on the signet, 777 is the no. on the gun,
777 is the no. on the magnet, 777, magenta blood is all,
777, the snake of ashen conflict: 777, the serpent thunder
on the crawl.
No more for news, no more for blues,
no more for vendors on the rise,
no more for news, no more for clues,
no more the summer in disguise:
no more the idol empty,
no more the graveward mind,
no more the angel emery,
no more the razors
in God's spine.?

I am the sun, the Cimmerian guardian:
through doors of gold, my haloes razed away:
I am the one, the Cimmerian guardian:
through doors of gold, my heroes broke away.

End.....?

 

copyright 2019.

12 seas under?