Who is number two?
..and who does he work for?

Thursday, January 30, 2014

domine delivre danikon daljinom "pax requiescat ineffabilis"


Silence.
shattered.
step,
by,
step.
dissonant syncopations.
disintegrating dissipation.
Nothing,
comes to a stop...
just shrapnel left to pick up the peace
bleak blackouts in lamentation.
Cacophonous wails,
passed over,
grief strewn & stricken shock.
emptied of broken narrratives,
except the mere pain unspeakable.
Surrounded by ever lengthening shadows;
tattered souls submerged in disarray.
Confined to puncture fragilities
skewered shivers,
dripping somberous anathema involuntarily,
as the pale glamours
desolate.

o christ, child,
one wishes it could be easier.
this raw & piercing cold,
continues unabated;
smoldering our endurance,
blowing out the pilot light,
cutting any prime connection,s
irreversibly,
cruelly,
irreparable eternally,
off time & time again.

All succumb.
All devoured.
All conquered, at
the inevitablities
drawn bridges;
into
the abyss,
abominable,
agape.
deep, morose & mourning.
waste.
the ever comatose.
the endless in crash common coryza,
the machinations of callous commerce
called fate.
sustain these rusted arterials of
chrome pumping
miasmatic saturnine,
petroleum carcinogen,
grating taciturn diseased flesh,
careening pallid stale slate tundra empyreon.

crushed asunder unspeakable feats
& under facts, helpless.

can there be no denial of dharma
in the perilous parallax of existence?
total point = suffering, tribulation & precious brevity.
all one,
yet all alone.
a part,
yet still never apart from
paradox.
this all encompassing sorrow constant.
bitter advertents
whittle down destiny,
as the world turns
blindly,
on a dime,
without reason.
without rhyme.
...or so it seems upon this deterministic stage sublime...

beyond struggle,
can liberty be attained?
can empty tombstone bones ever be bound beyond
rite rote restriction?
could being ever resist the urge for repetition?
is there only surface despair amongst creviced catatonics?
mere static rhetoric,
betwixt the flaw & ruin of petrified airspace
gone dead,
seized ceasing,
tuned to strains of background radiation,
fatally fragmenting for perpetuation?

sudden split,
an accidental hesitation,
decision jagged pulsating,
rapid vermilion careening,
clasped at the clutch;
the moment sinks
into the stream.
sudden oblivion,
redemption lost,
& only regret remains.
a transient dance carries us to
the curtain fall,
as bright new snow veils
over the old ashes,
incessantly
endless.

reprocussive concrete
active consecration,
still rings in reverberation of
cathartic echoes,
reanimation caught
on carbon
imprinted reproductions
of matter
carelessly evaporated aetheric.
where information transforms
undeniable irrepressible
off-color signals,
transcending the bonds of phenomena,
breaking chains of thanatotic mantras,
virulent representations reiterating that
"all things must pass"...

...solemnly understanding,
acceptance reflects:
"surely yes,
i agree...
but love, most certainly, surely,.
conquers all things. . .
so please,
fear dread
nought"

still,
it shall always come & it shall all ways go.
still,
one cannot but must carry on.
still,
even this mystery can be beautiful:
that nothing ceases,
except the tears,
which find clarity reflecting
amidst the disillusion.
that moment found,
right before the everglowing apparition rises
anew.

now,
try without trying.
seek not this,
nor that,
just release,
& return.

this sentence is over
now
you are free

2 comments:

  1. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XEBigcZTrjU

    ReplyDelete
  2. http://grooveshark.com/album/Le+Voyage+Tibetan+Book+Of+The+Dead/7543657

    ReplyDelete