DON'T BEAK A GIFT HEARSE IN THE MOUNT!

what original mind

would say that a line

that caused so much feeling

should suffer

when you suffer not

the complainte of meaning

then and only then

will the yodeling protoctistan mirror saints

attend your 

champaigne barmitzva scrotum table cloth

with their houndstooth

tongue butler roman sandal biscuit

romance

a large heavy rock

will certainly put an end

to your brother's supernatural whining

which should quiet your dreams enough

to see the transparent capricorn fish's

nicotine vagina horn

dogs wearing mink stoles

backpackers in jeopardy

and transsexuals being birthed

from fallen goat rugs

now be a good lad

and play your sword flute

for old Jambidvupta

Most excellent granny,

Penelope's many suitors

are wrestling in the plaza.

Serve them poisoned gruel

and we'll have dog food 

for the winter.

Yes Granny.

TV said if I did drugs

I'd be stuck at home

doing nothing in my pyjamas.

I'm glad I turned out to be a drug

stuck at home

doing nothing in my pyjamas

a car lighter

sheeps

the sheffield green

grey

ideologies

are demons

that inhabit

the post-classical

mutation space

bardo-beasts

of the mirrored picasso hell humanism paradox

true human time

ended

in the classical periods.

these sheep drift

into the shadow of cerberus

whose third head

is a hops flower

hung low

on a lute string

i can't bear my monstrous shadow anymore

if I quiet my mind enough maybe I can see the transparent capricorn fish's

nicotine vagina horn

Samuel Beckett

changed

into

an Elephant.

as satan

my lonely yodeling

bounds through space

in a windy gristle

in spring

the butterflies will return

there's nothing left for me anymore here

except infinite potential

on an immortal plain of inconceivable joy

AGENTS OF THE CLASSIC

UNITE!

You should be an agent of the Classics, Robothi!

Every proportion is designated

by a divine transcendent principle.

Thomas Pynchon

is Mercury's Jack-o-Lantern

In life I was the preface

to a yodeling manual,

and in death

I yodel.

I told you to sign in at the desk before you visited the skull gallery!

In in any event, the human image itself, like God,

HAS driven man insane, which if not exactly proving the existence of God,

at least proves the divinity of man,

for Satan yodeling in the Classical period

through a transparent nicotine vagina horn.

If Syntaxis is the body of the divine syntagma,

I need to be ever vigilant

to maintain my cells!

What the fuck is it?

Can't tell. I think it may be a giant unthinking post-classical mutation zone,

or a robotic cigarette vagina.

I think you look a little more Kurt Vonnegut playing Abdul Alhazred in a post-classical nicotine patch called BELIAL!

gritty

1970's

conceptualism

was the last gasp

of the classical.

and then a fiery spermatazooon

replaced the flower emblem

that the yodelling satan clone had made

on the surface of the milk lake

high on mount sumeru

I'm spraying my photons

all over you.

DON'T BEAK A GIFT HEARSE IN THE MOUNT!