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 | May. 24th, 2012 @ 12:24 pm  |
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in the burning sky of Egypt i met this boy and that boy. they were all precluded to be met by me. we showered in the sun of the burning pot that lay on the grass by the Temple of Death. our hands were souked, they were sake, perhaps even distilled in the burning sun of Egypt, the Mother of The Faraoh Kliptih The III, mainstream media of the West.
our hands were clear of the blue waters of The Sea of Blood that penetrated the horizon with VeriZon and kept us busy with the kiwi diving. the bus stopped at the edge of the water and to wonderfully beautiful creatures crept out to be swallowed by the burning sand and kept on the fringe of water for eternity. however, umbrella of protecting deity, hand that holds the pendalum of sovereignity, kept staring in the vacant space between me and my body.
i wasn't sure if the blue surface of the water was staring inwards. to pity it was to abandon oneself to deliriums of wolf-eaters, but only sexy creatures kept themselves alive by devouring sand that slipped through their burning fingers that were pointing inwards in the depths of the Hell with all their angels happily ever after eating flesh of burning babies savouring their skeletal deformities, relinquishing... ah, it doesn't matter. the wave comes and washes the shore, my feet ar burried in the minds of berries and it comes to be known as the sedation of Sigurtney Ross, tho ruler of the unknown, the perturbing sinusoid of "never the less".
it is this bulimia that keeps repeating itself, never ceising to believe in one's true identity as proclamation of Sundance Festival. it is this sublime creation of ongoing delusion that keeps us profane and self-indulgent, creating our own images of the devil without skin that promises but never delivers milk or without milk, image of without image. the only thing that stays on top of a pile of tom-tom's is inevitably let ashore the missile carrier Albert The Great.
and it is with this stylized red Barbican that the Red Army comes out of the Waters of Babylon and says in a clearly distinguishable voice - wash yourselves, ye disturbing creations of madness and void. do as you ar told or be obliterated in the Tolik of underwater bunkers of Bangok after the day breaks into tears from flying sepulcers. and knowing teachers will tell lies about beatnik who ate his own hat to prove nothing to noone. the concrete zoo, the ephemere sand dust and dust of the burning sand. i said - solve yourselves and abandon hope, only true believers will feel flesh on their toes and will dance thus in times to come, and eat their newborn babys without feeling hunger ever after the march of Beatles.
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| From: | ![[info]](http://klab.lv/img/userinfo.gif) punkts |
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| Date: |
May 24th, 2012 - 01:11 pm |
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just. i am little ashamed because i write words that come in my mind - i think that someone else might be thinking the same words at the same time and so i feel like a plagiat. but on the other hand the longer i write the more i get convinced that no-one can possibly think the same combination at the same time wich allowes me to escape. i bought a box of diapositivs of someones life, about 120 pieces in a neat metal box and so each diapositiv is numbered and named. i don't know if that is the right order, some of them might be displaced but when you see in tag section a number you will know that that is the number of a diapositiv as it is indicated in the box. i refrain myself of making too much sense because i don't want to be cought. i don't know why. sometimes when i suspect that i am making a grammatical error, that helps me feel less guilty.
grammar is order, so if I look at your innocence in this regard and if I think "that is a mistake, but it's an interesting mistake" ( - like thinking 'i vernacular' could be taken as a verb"), then I am still thinking in an ordered fashion. Making order out of the given order - I take what I can get: I can only allow myself to slip into disorder in a dream state when I have faith I can reassemble something ordered and workable later.
It's my problem. I like to mock it (the ordered way), but I am dependent on it.
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