23. gods - the posthumous ones

Crawling gods hairy dark unkillable












Giddily slither the bugs

With their lily-like harpoons their beady eyes

Their many legs hairy and black

Their mottled glans

Their puce prepuces

Their bleating mouths

Their unctuous invocations

Their vicious hearts

Their wrinkled assholes from where volumes

Are shitted of quivering stinking platitudes...



I’ve been a secretary to a dentist

To a clumsy dentist I might add

I’ve seen pain

I’ve seen faces scorched and flayed

Unwrapped

The faces you’d see when you opened the iron maiden’s door

And the fellow inside had been pierced through the nose

The eyes the mouth

His bowels topsy-turvy

His organs every which way

And burst you bet

Susurrant seeping garbledly gurgling

Telling one to pull the chain on it all

Once and for all

The deed done...



I’ve been smirking high on a booster seat

Fronting the circus

I’ve even had my courage briefly rubbed off

My heart lumbering

My blood whipping

My lungs yammering nonsense

When for pure pukka tiptop deterrence a beast jumped on the bleachers

We keen on aucupation

A hawk feeding on the filthy wealthy

Extracting its tithe on the eyes of the onlookers:

There is something as having too much fun...



But those bugs

Those bugs were unkillable

Did I try to stick up their asses a stick of dynamite...?

Did I ever!

But no

No event so singular that could end them

Not even a nuclear bomb making a dent

Their atoms undetachable

Tightly bound with an inexpugnable glue

Are they gods...?

They must be

Probably the original ones

Or else the posthumous ones

The gods we left behind

For that’s the only way to kill them

To kill the unkillable bugs or gods

Shadowy presences nibbling gnawing

Ratty rotting

Fraying scouring

At the dusty corners under your bed

Thereabouts ubiquitous

Scrunching freely

Corroding your corns your feet

And beyond

Your innards

Your soul – membranous tattered torn down...



By wiping your conscience clean

Tabula rasa

Die please die

Die...



And thus kill the gods.

22. eye angelized

Angel eye










He approaches - a fish out of water waving his filamentous fins

His breathing hands sifting the desert dust

And he’s got a knife he’s got a few sharper ones too stuck in his sash

Armed to the gills

After the gelding I’ll be much better than a man he assures me

I’ll be angelized.



Dove into the swamp

Swam until I became a riddle of slugs soft weeds bloodsuckers teeth

Ran through the jungle

The freezing reef I climbed like a skulking ascending glacier

Then I lost my foot and my alibi

Fell a wreck at their cataphracted feet

Blindfolded and gagged they had me quarantined

A luminescent amoeba now-defunct enkindled the bleak sojourn

She was a tiny parasite in one of my eyes

She saw my suffering

She remembered my childhood

When I was such a stud where all the old patricians croaked with envy

That I'd better be made better than a man soon

My prick showing the proud depravity

Of a lean never lame boomslang

Agreed agreed their jealous rusted voices croaked

And the amoeba clung

And made love to my eye

My all-seeing eye

My angel eye.

21. fates frantically webbed

Crisscrossing lines of fate on alleys quite frenzied










One wonders

Why the rapidity

Isn’t it better to stroll along the road?

The procession of cars with the rushing nuns crammed in

Shall collide with the procession of cars replete with the flushed heavy families

That speed on the contrary direction

And what a bother all it shall be

The shambles the smokes the conflagrations

The bodies the bloods

The sirens the hounds

My car was stolen long ago – by thieves one supposes

Never owned that damned annoyance a dog

Never had therefore an “accident” provoked by such a pesky overgrown bug

Now my friends’ house

The same I used to crash in up to the day before yesterday

Was also stolen – by the cops – or the state – (same thing)

Now I see them coming back on the opposite side (my friends)

Across the river of crazed vehicles

The friend in front waves the papers – it seems their legal or judicial

(Or whatever) steps in the city have been successful

Their efforts to reclaim the property paying at last off

The replevin papers in order – waved dangerously aloft where the current

From the accelerating vehicles gathers and eddies in little maelstroms

The friend behind looks more harried

He doesn’t rush with the same alacrity he lags he sags he staggers

He gestures to me that I ought to go back with the joyous friend

Than he is due behind

He has a more urgent matter now to take care of than the retrieval

Of one’s house

I signal that no way

That that’s my goodbye for now

There they go sweating and floundering up the side of the road

Me leisurely strolling down the other

The middle unassailably taken by the blur of hastening crisscrossing traffic

The nodding friend whose whole craving (gnawing yearning) is now

To touch back his house detaches himself

Hangs back the second one hassled disturbed

The opposite traffic darts against him

As my opposite traffic rips against me

That’s why I can’t get the gist of what he says or even gesticulates

That much I gather

That he’s seen some of his family on a train due incontinently out

And he’s conflicted

What the fuck to do

The house successfully reclaimed

The family going away forever

He must go back he’s indicating

He must catch the fucking train

The house be damned

That must be goodbye forever

He sweats he thrashes about he’s about to collapse

But he keeps on walking fast taking my direction now

Overpassing me by far all on the other side of the noisy track

He looks despaired

He fears he won’t make it

There he goes what a distressing marionette

What a discomfort for the eyes

What an embarrassment of a puppet disheveled frayed shabby moribund

He is madly rushing against traffic in the opposite side of the road

Where I’m also leisurely strolling on my way to the same station

Where sure I’ll catch a train

I’ll catch a train or other

That’s a given

Never you fret.