And then it went down
my boner, my ship, my pontifical
pontifex, ix, ichor, ist..
you get the gist.
gristle and gumbo,
whither and hiss,
all of it held aloft
with albino cobra soft
the networking solution
of gods.
damnation
is your worlding grotto
of word, for if your speach
was as meaculpapistoa as
the potential of molecularity
ie, if your lie-ing
was anywhere as sweet as wine
your untruth
anything but a blindness
masque-errating as a drunkeness
then perhaps
we might have plenty tender
for Babylon's newest tiered marvel of breathing green
but instead
black takes brown's purse
in the parking lot of the envelope factory
the human element is unnecessary
and over-produced
and ill-trained
and wastes its time in art
and lie-ing
because life is too hard
too easy
and anything that can be
said to be true
is more than true,
much more, and less than true,
much less.
Everything is hyper disposable,
and hyper-precious
AT THE SAME TIME
words create these states
and that works on at least
TWO LEVELS
The Buddha
is an oxygen molecule
and you must breathe him in
and transform (kill) him
If you see Ezra on the road,
KILL HIM! Because his metaphysics of
HA, SO FAR..
are occluding
my monstrous organs.
