Monday, November 5, 2012

I refuse to Vote, because I am God.

Demographics urge unwieldy pictures, metaparastable mixtures; "Are they snakes or turds hung on that letter of the law, Caduceus?" "O Zeus, thou art a cad, though mystery hurled down is becoming clearer..." And Medicaid is allowed to fix prices, but no legislation on earth can quell the actual organs and their mute ideology. Some called it Biological Determinism, but we called it Punctuated Equidelirium needing librium, liber ex, ex voto, no vote; -I vote no confidence in the species in general, but not because of failure, but because success carries a Labrys, and the Labrys quells all victors, and victims all the looser, finer points amok, and so primordia returns, a chaos of beasts rules the earth with a blind iron eye of unseeming magnetism, the little mazes each human heart describes forms a palimpsestic (imperialistic) grille some would know to be a meteorology of armored blood-sacs, and so, the Ourobouros is old, that sacred and unholy snake gobbling its own tale, eating its own Caducean offal, narrative for fools, and all fools for narrative, don't tread on me describing the totality of syntaxis, one false step at a time. No ballots suffice to answer my criticism, only dreams of screeching Valkyric banshees, angry, goddess-like hotties descending on cellphones beaming their hypersonic ringtones, and displaying their exploding nipples like frozen constellations of hyperholographic mis-prisms.. Postmodernism was already Secular Gnosticism 30 years ago, when it built a charneval tomb house, and started pouring champagne over corpses bloated with nictitating plastic fun-babies...