13th Generation

I. Tensions

We need to believe we are alive.
Watching memories die off one @ a time
Leaving us cold in each others arms
	Days strung out into blue venoms
	As tranquil extensions of ourselves danced amongst the stars
Searching for a place to crash until sunrise
Then rise as another day of questing for nonsense broke free
It was an agony we couldn’t reason w/
	Ghostlike extensions of ourselves dance towards the dawn
We remain free of understanding until the shadows of sunset
Begins to steal the glow from the faces & the windowpanes
We got a big blue Buick for freeway access
	Corroded extensions of ourselves stand downtown
	Meeting to find out what we are meeting for
Endless cycles of coffee-tallking joint ventures
Reminiscing visits to the wardrug rehaboys home
Eventually breaking off into lifestudy groups to quest again.

We will find a new myth.
If it offended you we were probably proud,
Built that way from a factory mold
	Molded extensions of ourselves searching for fungii
	Striving for what we might consider immortality.

“a way w/ words
	that one guy”

do you wonder why it’s come to this?
Tiptoeing the treason trails of subliminal mindcrime?
	All of us masters of media, interactive ontological terrorists
	W/ it’s own CD Rom?
We are the information viruses of the information age
(soft moist matter for the idiot mind to swallow)

-posh setting, smooth background-

   Everyone has my number…watching the back door…expected heavy casualties…
the men in black are coming back
 w/ more than enough to start the new cold war…

“We have a grip on government 
w/ tax evasion, fraudulent investigations,
 media deceptions, personal corroboration,
 & even an assassination.”

   On the soapbox another masturbation…
pass them in the park carrying their plots
 in their briefcase…makes you wonder, 
why flying ants?


(Beginning another speculation on God,
 a personal deviation…all the evidence
 points towards mutilation, & after close examination
 the words are hardly inspiration
 or explanation.)

Bastardized extensions of ourselves searching our past,
 reminded daily of the pleasures of quick-fix romance 
& the importance of ritual.


 II. interludesign

The song can never last forever
Maybe half a day @ most
“It was another pipe dream.”-interesting idiom

The coffee house looked & smelled of Amsterdam, heartthrob of America

when the wheel stops turning the cycle begins again
sit down, shut up, start dancing


III. Engine of History

Every moment collapses & redefines shadow dancing tail
spun flame echo of blackground wallsettings,
 sinisterized madness,
 farflung passions, & unburdened mindwars…
vitriol of the last eucharist
 & all six elements,
 mingled will of the 13
 souls waiting for the hourglass
 to break, & they called it
 the Engine of Souls, 
buried beneath the House of the Masters Race…
those who destroy
what might threaten their rules.

The greeks remember what happens to history
 when history isn’t yr story
& the continent sank in peace.
  (Maybe we will find some purity
 under the paws of the Sphinx.)

The stone faces mumble alone when the wind flows,
 stone rings mark time in micromoments
 for long-dead druids,
 stone-faced temples on mountain tops
 over tibetian folklore,
 every carved monumental monolith
 a maze of mythic implications.
  & they had hoped it would last forever,
 all heresy crushed into one big bad God
 raining stones on the fallen, 
flames on the grim… 
 where is sophia?

hands calling oxen & lions to heed,
 dangerous allies for dangerous needs.

When the fires had died
 on the emperor’s pride 
& the knights of the temple 
had all they could carry, 
& the rosy cross became more
 than a coat of arms,
 & the leaders of men
  became masters of destiny,
   that was when the Great Engine began,
    tearing its way through reality’s fabric.

  Separation from our holy places,
 Mu is gone, just as is Avalon,
& the men who destroy have destroyed all they can.


 IV.  echomuzzlement

Will the Cave of Dreamtime still be there
When the Real People let themselves leave
Or will we cease to exist,
	No longer being cast as shadows

Riding forth & searching for truth, almost flying
Needing armor & swords & steeds
	The War Of The Mind began long ago

Common sense is what tells us time is linear
Common sense is what tells us the Earth is flat.


V. Funeral For The Real

Folding in the grief of tarnished tension
 a bloodsky @ twilight
 etched the moment
 deep into the soul of eternity, 
infinity pounding @ the gates of the senses incarnate,
 & as the dust settled 
we saw only waste 
& riots left behind.

IF Only a moment could pass w/out misunderstanding,
 w/out deliberate nothing
 & the curse of time 

W/out knowledge…a grinding fear
 & grimacing freedom even now…
wishing forever was only a teardrop away.
  This echo grown,
    filled with vibrations,
    returning to the mirror.

W/in the mirror the face stays hidden, 
    masked & bloodied 
    the warrior stands firm.

Come close,
 ask yourself who you are,
 why you exist,
 where are you headed,
 how have you changed,
& when will you die.
This is worth more than money.

 
VI. sycophantasy

Beautiful country of senseless zombies, 
world of no-though 
& isms 
& religions

It is a mindless video war
 where no one can think,
& success is all scraps of paper.

A lifelong tally for the poker night of the immortals,
 gods
& other assorted gambling types.

Where’s the deity when you need her?
I’ve been traveling for days now.
Would you believe the cold man when he comes,
Bearing gifts of frozen emotion?


VII. Mourning the Passion

Live from Patmos it’s the Revelation of John!
Fantastical misery & the End of Time

The four riding out w/out fashion sense or social control.
It’s four in the morning & my mind is on fire,
 I’ve worried myself until only a string binds me, 
& I’ve always wanted to learn how to fear
but now it’s useless.

  I don’t know so much it’s killing me, 
a mental decompression in an emotional void.

It’s not that we are insane,
 we just think we are,
 & we want to believe 
that we believe in nothing
 but something keeps holding us back,
  & we’ve become bitter
 over how bitter
we’ve become.

I scream useless phrases, 
 compete in no-win situations,
  console the free 
  & deceive the enslaved.
If only for a moment,
  I subcum to perfection,
  & challenge my shadow
  to a shouting match.

I’ve been bleeding for aeons now,
  the slow escape of visions
  into stigmata, through war
  like endurance that is oppressive
& maniac.

The world begins to burn away,
complexity & density
in the hopes of purity
The Hopi have no hope.

Should we prophesize our way to oblivion,
 philosophize until we disintegrate
 (Two things we thought we could handle,
 oldest trick in the book of the dead.) 
 & We had planned on a feast for this weekend.

I wouldn’t hear of it,
 even if I was in the bleedin’ forest
 next to the tree
 shitting w/ a family of bears
 & skinning cats for a living.
  I’ve been apologizing for mistakes
 I’ve yet to do,
 but I still refuse to be sorry. 
 I have more urgent realities to attend to,
 anger I still need to suppress.  

I love the night
 w/ it’s insistence on shadows.
  Is this what we’ve wanted,
 this war on peace we’ve declared so many times?

We don’t make change;
 we just make sense,
 yet it is still only 
foreign money.


 VIII. reicheshatic

I am closer now
  than ever before, 
a symbol away from cold hard truth
& If that’s not enough I still have nightmares

While this broken-down daydream
 on the other side of the ashtray
Knows only two ways home,
	Neither sober nor sane

I followed, tongue in cheek, toes on the brake,
The horses of death & pestilence & the TEOTWAWKI,
	No deity to molest, but, as luck may have it,
	There’s always heresy to fall back on

Eye sees nothing of external morbidity,
A martyr for those who will not sell their souls
& A mission of mercy w/ military in tow


IX. Eulogy for the Witness

SHoulD I crY Out IN fReAkDom?
EXploDe InTo StillNess…
& What of the wolves that lie, crouching @ your door?

Does it wait while you sleep,
    dreaming of mortals & watchers?  
From out of the shadow of shame we arrive, 
    molded from religions & shapeless designs.

I am so tired, so much to relieve, 
    so much to forget,
    so much to believe,
    so long to live 
  & so much to receive,
I once was a seeker but now I deceive.

I’ve spent all my madness
 on the dreams I’ve designed
 in a criminal wish
 to destroy my own mind.

Would you comfort this soul
 that just barely survives
 or eat out the heart
 of this teller of lies?

Chastity, sanity,
 master of fantasy,
  blasphemy, agony,
   survivor of tragedy,
    mystery, misery,
   destroyers of history,
  destiny, ecstasy, filled
 w/ obscenity, full of tensions 
& willful erections in a master corruption of massive consumption...

These are the days
 of yesterdays reasons,
 only a grimness
 devoid of religion,
 stigmatized by stigmata
 & unworthy decisions,
 tainted by bitterness
 & obsessed w/ precisions…

This world of fire
 supports artists & saviors,
 the coldness of patience
 for abstract assailants,
 w/out forgiveness or wishes
 or witnessed perceptions, 
I should have been honest
 but I’ve lost all my symptoms.

Eulogy for immortals & all of the mystics,
To whom death is a spectre & life is a sickness.





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