The Snake to the Magus

It's always a scorchy day on the great eve of whatever-the-heck it was or did seem was to be been
have gold.
Gold! like the drops of dew from the Moon on high be it blue or bone white, with a face that looks down on dawn or very small men by the millions walking her almost lonely and only illusionarily sullen surface
Gold that spurts in clear phallic sugar
only romantically coaxed
too tuglessly tickled and seduced by Her sex

I do say Sheila! You take me too tyrannically...
(but actually she's not really making a fuss, but ignoring him, looking in the mirror herself and powdering her chest, pulling tight that V-cut for just the right shape of cleavage-- good girl, my witchy warrioress)
She's all too swollen about the right places in
places in space and
Who would have figured with that smile and even
sometimes you know it's just there's an anyhow
and second thoughts
I don't know for myself if she does want it really or just likes that lost look in his eye

Burn the winged sun upon my head!
Oh Sheila, if it be in you to do so and at the end you
she did manage to disintegrate back into the aether though
and you know it was about time that
I mean about space that (and the infinite stars thereof)
she was at the end you
(she too must come to pass)
The day was darkening and the sun swallowed by the sea
(though he burns on and on ever unconsumed by the sea you see)
And nothing ever sad but thinking made it so sorry
that even in sorrow and death I'm in love not
with her but with Her and let
me do talk about that Horned one

It comes first in dark robes, the men in black
And red triangles
And blue triangles in temples
Until it seems best to prove:
"Most people never understand anything
They are like the soil of the earth
They form the basis of life but are themselves lifeless."
And there's a voice laughing in broken crackles in crackwhip dancing distortions over the intercom and a god to rise over landscapes of geometry grinning jauntily until Holy Terror sets in and
Comes slowly at first, the Horned silhouette stomping down a dark hallway in
thud... thud... thud...
Thud Thud Thud--
Crash! of crystal glittering glass shards spread by a wealth of good shenanigans across cosmic eternal night sky and smoke and a face of galaxies with smeared hollow eyes and a grin of death that spans unmeasured lightyears...

Still
You come home and Sheila is there to greet you in her favorite
red as imagined blood that
fills her lips and lips
parting to suggest parting,
"may I raise your Snake, but droop not it's head?"
That's just how she plays it:

Praise the Life of Lucifer Luckystar

They think I he was called Lucifer Luckystar, not for sake of earth or jam or Jam or Jupppppiter jumping frogleap across bountiful bodies of beautiful night sky (Nuit, Her name means...) One must get off that way on the imaginary terrors of Evil all fire in flaming fucking refulgent jets spurting out a volcanic cock just oh oh OH! what a Holy Terror. And--
Who put all this blood in the bathtub?
Oh, do apologize, I only had to go to the Bathoryroom. Yuck yuck! But the Gods do promise the eternal fire...
And?
Up he was sharp went down he (because they shall fear thou art Fallen, forget misunderstandings and all the sad sadistic saints who went to naught but Hell and all the victorious but vanquished who went to naught but Heaven (waiting all the while waiting while the demonic wretched worked their wilesome ways) but to the Adepts whose feet trampled Hell and whose heads hung in the mists of Heaven:) and a sword all about him a Red Flaming sword all about hims haloed head
Because one well trained tyrannical truant too many had had his way with this fair land, but alas we do come to laugh at your dead and to rape your virgins (mmm... those fairgame virgins and all the while let the Blood be dedicated ever to Her)and to spit in the eyes of your fools and pinprick your little penises and to penetrate your pussies never pity and not to console your pathetic and now long dead and bloody weak, but to pardon your pedophiles and philander with your filthy and disintegrate with your drunks and laughing always laughing
And we will get away with it because it's all for the laughs...

Baphled

Don't make me chase that rat cabbage or you'll
Regret it? You were about to say--
To to hell with your blimey Baphomet!
Out out out
out with him!
(Silly, the old sagging ladyman saying so, saying while solving, not coagulating)

222
hahaha

Up one goes while saying not in
Silence
(Black is not a dirty place;
love Her for she is All and Naught)
Down we never go
(unless we like sucking, oh boy oh boy!)
White what direction takest thou?
White what direction?

222
hahaha

(on a very interesting sidenote sidenoting in sidetones self-referentially, the androgyne in question or phrase did have or once had or is having or has and will always have a heavy career as a punching bag, a pin cushion, a horses hide (and hide and hide and hide oh!), a saran wrapped fish, a homunculus for homicide harborers, a plague upon the poor pornographed menstruate mistresses of Minnesota, Indiana and California (down and up)...and on and on...until a gimpy little green man in suit says "okay okay okay hiccup hiccup hiccup")

Jessicascent ascending unending
Jessicascent where are you!
She's floated off into the blue clouds of Ches--
Stop your bickering over that damn dame! She's a dirty slut she is! You seen the way she dresses, practically staring straight up her hooch with her
(VA's not listening, just counting the feathers on his wings and counting well one-one-zero)

222
hahaha

Baphomet don't be baffled don't be broken or battered or brained
keep us Beth Avenued, balanced, breadthy and sane

And look on ho! There's Jess just now
(dressed right well for the occasion in a red flowing dress that she likes to pull over her head or tie to her waist like a naughty girl revealing black stockings always black black and a pinned green rose given her by a gimpy green man in suit, lips and eyes to die for oh Jess! and tits galore)
Reaching floating ascending so suddenly
It's the it's the its the-- oh ah! saliently
She soars
on wings she soars
Yes it's the, it's the, ah me, it's the
(she still can't say it)

Word!
222 burst so powerfully into the room that he knocks several species of small furry animal in many magnificent omnidirectional ways
(only after he left everyone swears they have no idea what he looked like)
Grin grin grin

But from which cosm do you come, sir?

And 222, in trying to answer the little boys pointed so fucking pointed question, stumbles a bit smashing his shin into a sharp table
Limping ouch limping he must, he must
222 away!

actually he was a scientist

Howdy ghost oh
went howdy because and I can't remember (can't remember)or did you think he wasn't a scientist?
question mark
Or as it has otherwise been stated (somehow stated) in large patterns
patterns great in scale
in scale
felt that they wouldn't really like hanging around Craig anyway
because
It was like piano music on
or did he say wire?
Or
did
he say
Grunger went badly so they thinked what pinked
what
no question mark
For it's the wrong inappropriate time to be timing an appropriately inappropriate act?
(don't answer that)
But here comes the
comes that Sandy girl all sandy on beaches reading a reader read
a red dress very proudly of
womanhood
Go around the back!
Always knocking goddamn knocking for nobody ever
why did he believe what the backdoor said?
was mahogany okay?
Or the beach or because and I do mean well that is to say
is to say scientist very loudly
scratch very proudly the lion or it was or as they did imply with their best thinkers thinking thoughts foot forward that (did he say Walt Disney?) would especially expect a white
a very bleached white
what was it?
labcoat!

Madness the Scientist

End breaker the thief the theft breaker he pronouns until get your damn hands off of me!
Liquid dissolve she I solvent for never tangible elsewise a rainbow ride
By the arrow
Then again we said it
Then an egg you said it
For rib I don't get won't get hard shell bent don't fresh don't get it
Elsewhere acid
elsewhere broken beaker theft don't off the table won't fabled as it goes that madness the scientist went broken
Hop hop a bloody foot
Sharp incidents do hip happen
do chirp captain on the where for tarnation did the pirates come from?
We won't know unless a swan

Van der Graaf Generator of the Pants

Collie Lasson, smoking vigorously from what seems to be a potted plant with a hooka stem protruding from it and unassuming leaves: "Well well well so so so officially it is the Word and amen to thee brother Manuel."
Contact Manuel, kneeling solemnly in a heap of broken glass: "Do tell, for I don't want to hear it so..."
"Well you see," puff puff, "it's all in the flick of the wrist and contrition openly dismantling the effort the worst of our best minds have made in their most reckless moments for it is true as the ants would have us say with kite strings attached to our limbs, 'this quantum technology is utterly useless.'"
Mr. Manuel fidgeting a bit, arms still limp across his knees, "yes...but what of the giant ones, that guy Scruffy who swore that it would all happen in the collisions, in the minutia of the sub-atomic particles?"
"Blast! Your giants are impoverished-- just look into the Book of Jasher, the Nephilim, yes? No no no! Be damned with your, uh, what's he called...? Uh, Jehovamajig."
"You're being overly cautious. I can feel it. I know you too well, this is a mirage. This mirage is making me feel like I'm delusionating. Did you say that? I mean did I say that. Wait a moment please. Stop that, the nouns are shifting again. Deixis!"
Puff smoke, puff until the plant turns a crimson red and collapses of it's own volition. "Okay, just call me out on the seaweed act! I mean, it's not like I intended to get you into this state-- but don't do that, that thing distracting from the matter at hand. This is important goddamit--"
"It is! It is!" Struggling up from the ground, spots of blood sprinkling about. "The problem's just in the way you've framed the issue, see. That Mercury fellow can only lead us so far before WE have to abandon HIM. He'll keep leading. Don't talk down to me, no..." stroking blood across his chin, "I have seen the vast expanse of the universe displayed in the mouth of a child, under small stones that turn up in riptides, behind that sheet of paper that you reach for thinking it's only a financial report (and indeed it is) but containing so much more, in small things, yes..."
"Alright. Fair enough. Then let me re-establish the borders--"
Except that Bjork is staring him down from across the room, bidding him in that way she does with the eyes and head so still, so perfectly still, 'don't you say a fucking thing. Don't give it away, even if all things are apart...'"

a wide gate around it

a crusade of broken watches
watches us and a whole bread crust
really

though not to poke a hole in your maybe all too planned out situation but
and i do mean it with the utmost hospitality that
well its just only just that i
so anyway as i was saying

then she trips and falls on her face
no joke

it was the uh
they were laughing at me and i still dont know why i was in that kitchen
i wasnt in the kitchen actually but it seemed like i could have been
(we murder our appetites with whores)
they were all sinister somehow and i do begin to believe that something bars the way
at the time it was a dog
but eroticism will eventually decrease the horror

nobody really wanted to hear his attitude
so they just asked the angels to help out
yes it was fire
yes it was air
and everything else you expected at the time
ah yes those were cold golden days
the ones that crept by in a senseless haze
too much sense for this old sinner
(sin yes as it is to miss the target but what was the target)
and tanks rolling in from off the southern hills
and holy guardians gazing guardedly
i was your sam samuelsonson
believe me

but nobody does
they just go back to eating their anchovies

z joBB for aries

Love aways yieLLdeth

So anyway, I don’t go into the kitchen anymore because the wife just stands there and beats more and more eggs all day, just stares off into oblivion– though she’s still very beautiful especially when the sunlight peers through the window in heavy sheets. Then Gary inevitably comes by with a head of lettuce and a bucket of fish guts that he always get angry about and dumps all over my carpet even though the house is on fire and smurfs keep sneaking in with the cutest little fire hoses to try to put it out– those smurfs that my son likes to stomp and collect up into a blender to make ungodly beverages to impress his bohemian friends by.
So anyway, the wife’s lost it and the other girls don’t talk to me even when I strategically place my bulbous and delicious cock in plain view and tell them truthfully about my past homosexual relations and the best way to avoid the spread of disease such as the Tango Lessons, the Moppy Hair Virus, and especially the Spontaneous Suspender Regrowth. For the most part they just avoid me even though I’m a genius who howls poetry at the moon from the top of the highest ant hill in my backyard while regurgitating fragments of fish that I’ve carefully slurped off the floor. Spongey Walters always tells me it’s not much of a courting gesture, but what does he know with his moustache, his mullet and that ugly fucking mint green flannel that he wears over his head half the goddam time.
So anyway, as you may have inferred the wife and I don’t have sex anymore and she’s been in that kitchen going on five years now. It has been expressly stated in very long paragraphs in very small print on single sheet documents that if she dies by fire, by smurf infestation or meteorite collision that the full possession of her eggs shall be passed to me. So I just bide my time under remote bridges, below the surface of lakes (where I can’t breathe), somewhere in a large pool of beads and, when I’m incredibly lucky, in Keith Moon’s bass drum...