THE NOTORIOUS LOST BOY

True, I only ever really change from one lost to another - but I was REALLY lost, lover, an' I bin IN for ages. I'm through switchin' gilded cages, bro, I'm all spent playin' with matches - the same ol' birdseed, the same ol' birdshit, Mum, it all goes down the same damn hole! See where I jus' laid my hat? I'll call that 'home' until it hatches.

GREETINGS FROM BEYOND THE GRAVY

First up - I'm sorry for disappearing. 

I wasn't hiding from you & it wasn't anything personal - I simply had my head stuffed so far up my own pompous ass that I emerged out of my own mouth, like a snake endlessly swallowing its own tale [stet].

Sorry, that opening was as opaque as it was graphic. 

I'll start over, from the top .. only this time with intelligible meaning ..

There once lived a boy, very much like this man, who lived in a land very much like this one, in a castle very much like the top floor flat of 44 Nottingham Rd, E10 6EP. 

Now, this boy was a hurtin' boy - I tell you, he felt pain. Pain and again and again. Ow.

Then -one bright summer's morn- the boy was promised the emotional turn-off control he had always dreamed of, by three sisters he met on the internet, 'The Three Zolams': Eti, Clona & Flubroma. 

I tell you - he fell for them. For their promises. For their lies. He fell - like a soldier, like Lucifer, like the Roman Empire. He tripped and fell, much like Leary tripped, only blatantly stupid, not pretending to be wise. 

And did these seductresses take away his pain ? Hell, yeah ! But they also took away his brain. I tell you - he didn't even know his name.

So far he fell, and OH! so fast .. and he just kept falling and falling and falling .. falling so far up his own arse that he emerged through his own mouth, catching breath for a moment, before descending again up his own backside .. over and over again .. as The Snake endlessly devours himself.

It seemed like nothing could break his fall.. but one day he woke up from the dream and looked around .. the sisters had finally gone .. they had run out .. not one of them was left !

And that was he end of The Three Sisters Zolam. They and their kind had been banished forever from this land by The King's decree,  his iron will enshrined in a new law called 'The Psychoactive Substances Act'.

The End

I hope that was sufficiently clear - I realise human frailty is no excuse and there is no reason, but in the absence of anything everything becomes clear.

Second up - Greetings from beyond the gravy! 

Just thought New Year a good time for fresh starts ;)

All my love xxx

Happy New Year

Josh

x

Thanks, followers! This blog has netted me more than £1,000,000 !

Well, that's a bit of a fib.. in financial terms this blog has accumulated £3.71 over it's entire 7 year run.

So not enough to withdraw anything. Yet.

But I've had over 25,000 views! And my ideas on the interpretation of William Blake have had a profound effect on a handful of readers - which is far better than a million pounds.

Kinda.

I've read articles on how to write a 'successful' blog - apparently you have to the exact opposite of everything I have done.

So let this be a lesson to you !

J

X

MR K., HIS LOVER & THE GIRL WHO NEVER SLEEPS

A wall-post that might become the basis of a story about the Life of Mr K ...

"I wrote song this in late 2008- early 2009. I played it only once, and this is that recording, warts and all.

I'd shacked up with a great friend - she's a diamond character, I love her to bits. I guess I gravitate towards outsiders - or do they gravitate towards me? She's a post-op inter-sex, crack-tootin' witch. Me? I was a homeless waif with a messiah complex, so it was inevitable that we became lovers - a flame as bright as it was brief.

One day we stopped by her friend's place to deliver some 'black market goods' - and I became obsessed with the girl I met there, taking the opportunity to return there later on, after I was temporarily banished from the Crack-witch's domain following a lover's tiff.

I was convinced a series of poems I composed 20 years prior were about this girl I'd just met and knew nothing about ! - I was psycho enough to believe this wholeheartedly, and she seemed to give a lot of credence to the idea - most of the poems were quite general, so I guess the rational explanation was that I was unwittingly 'cold reading' her - but, if that was so, there were enough specifics to convince her I might be right.

We began a tentative covert affair (my only ever covert affair! But I wasn't myself at this time - I was The Celebrated Mr K.! Mr K. to my friends). By tentative I mean holding hands, gentle kisses, the odd caress - like shy twelve-year olds.

I was intrigued by the stories that emerged, our lives had certain parallels, in some ways, it seemed, we were like mirror images of each other, having both having been brought up within secretive Mystery Schools and instructed in their practices from an early age.

She was terrified to fall asleep, convinced that 'Joseph' (the man convicted of murdering her lover ('Jacob') had the power to enter her dreams from his prison cell - I wasn't certain how much of the back-story was a concoction of her mind, but I was convinced that the story held much power for her - even if it was all a kind of dream it was still a riddle set by her unconscious - my interpretation was that the clue was in the names - her murdering Joseph was "he could not be forgiven" - in a sense he represented her inability to forgive, and by extension the Jewish people's difficulty in letting go of the hatred fostered by a millennia of persecution of their people. Hence the couplet,

"I am the ONE, and you are the OTHER,

I am Joseph, Son of Jacob, who forgave his brothers"

https://soundcloud.com/thefamilyofcats/i-love-you-so-much

J.x

ps. Wrote this for your wall, but maybe will extend this into a blog post

The Jester Speaks... ON SUICIDE BOMBERS

The Jester Speaks... ON SUICIDE BOMBERS

An off the cuff ramble. WARNING: likely to offend "the living" & raise the dead

Sun Headline

Only1 in 5? I have been labouring under the misapprehension that everybody had some sympathy for suicide bombers. Surely they're victims too - they can't have been very happy when they were alive - & and now they're strawberry jam. 

Ah, now I understand why all those gorgeous virgins are reputedly waiting for them in Heaven - "nobody could call us fussy", a heavenly Virgin said, "BUT I do like a proper knob of bomber on my bread!"

I saw a documentary where a man who dealt in rare Mormon documents and two of his business associates got bombed - one of the associates died in the explosion, the other's wife was killed in his stead, by accident, when she opened the innocuous looking package on her doorstep, intended for her spouse.

It turned out the rare document merchant was a forger and was responsible for all the bombings - the attempt on his own life was itself a sham, his final forgery -NOW, That's What I Call Evil. Taking two lives for personal gain ? I have no sympathy. Giving up your own life for a cause you truly believe in ? NOW, That's what I call misled. 

Avaaz Petition

https://secure.avaaz.org/en/petition/Rt_Hon_Jeremy_Wright_QC_MP_Attorney_General_charge_The_Sun_with_incitement_under_S22_of_the_Public_Order_Act_1986

Why did I sign this Avaaz petition? The Sun is a vile rag. The Sun will brag about how many votes we cast in this Avaaz petition, it will present itself as an oppressed martyr, a martyr to the truth.

Those who train the fundamentalist bombers & The Sun both mislead with words, & neither knows a jot about martyrdom, nor has either encountered anything approaching "truth" - I have it on  the highest authority that neither party has the right to even look upon this word, 'Truth', even briefly - especially not late at night, while locked securely in a lead-lined padded-cell, where nobody is listening, & & if they were no-one could hear.

The Sun sells papers by appealing to the lowest common denominator of our species' feelings, the Jihadi leader sells death & glory using these same back-door tricks - characteristics, universal to our kind, built-in as standard issue, & all precious gifts, but mis-used to manipulate, to remote-control our minds, a security vulnerability that no patch but time can fix.

They both know all too well it's childs-play to access the CMD prompt &, provided the right syntax is used, we will follow the programme to the letter, believing it to emanate from our essential nature, or from God, because this hack bypasses the senses and the rational mind, and grabs you where you are most vulnerable: all the hate you ever hoarded in this lifetime, plus all the ancient harboured grudges you inherited from your loved ones - grudges that you love yourself because , now your loved ones have returned to Ash, to love their hate is the only way you know to maintain the illusion they were ever alive, when the reality is that our highest nature  has been hacked and abused by an errant and destructive virus - by all means honour your parents by contracting their disease, that is what their parent's did, and their parent's parent's before them - ashes, ashes ashes, dust, dust, dust.

The dead bodies piling up were always destined to return to ashes, their form a temporary aberration, just a deviation, from ashes to illusion, from appearance to ashes, from ashes to ashes, from dust to dust.

See the heaped masses of discarded papers - when did the hot news grow so cold? Today's news was already history before that single reader first glanced at the headline, before a single paper hit the stand .. that news was already old .. At the printers - dust! dust! .. on the battlefield ..  ashes! ashes! .. the intrepid reporter tries to jot it all down .. don't be scared, writer, don't get too attached to your shape, for it is but a fleeting illusion, nought but ashes, just dust blowing in the wind; but dust & ashes that leave a trace, a random mark upon a page, a mark that survives you, until a single word is all that's left of you - and it, too, in turn, turns to ashes - ashes scattered to infinity, together with the brave forgotten reporter, so unafraid to face the 'facts' -

"All I ever was were ashes [ashes, ashes, ashes, ashes], just dust [dust, dust], just dust alone - we're just deluded dust, just dust deluded, dust deceived, dust believing, just believing, believing in dust alone; believing dust is just, when dust just IS -it IS, just IS- & that's enough [that's enough] - well, isn't that enough?

To BE, to SEE, to be part of ME -isn't that enough?- but that dust can't see the Holy Sea - its not just dust, its sand [it's sand], its sand refined, - refined by hidden furnace [hidden furnace], hidden fire - sand by hidden hand defined , its Mirror-like [it's mirror-like] - Mirror-like, like ME - yet it is finite, it is limited, to MY infinity - to my limitlessness it is limited, & that what makes it -almost- the only 'thing' not-ME.

And it's reason? -if it needs one- is that it is, almost, not-ME. It's reason -should it need one- is that, like ME, it's free. It's raison-d'etre -if it needs one- is to be another ME - another being, an other, being, seeing, born alone, like ME - unaware of where it comes from or of its destiny - it is dust, here comes the rain, I AM the rain, the rain I AM - where I AM the dust turns to mud, the mud  to clay - a self-creating Golem, creating meaning, creating itself, then finally creating ME   & what it reflects is finite, & it collects partial pictures,  that dust alone can decipher ev'ry Holy sign, perceiving patterns in the fallout, cast about the winds of time - patterns [patterns]' shapes & forms - shapes dust vainly claims & names "my mind", when the dust  

reflecting but not fallout everywhere & I know that its a sign - can you deny that ev'ry lie -if just one believes it- it becomes the truth? And this? This is my truth, I own it, it is mine - indeed, it is all I AM, he who IS - ISIS trembles, before the Being at the Beginning & at The End of Time. 

Who was it who said, "there are only two sides in every battle - those who pick a side & those who won't, those who play the game, & those who don't" ?

This game is called 'the brave & honourable tradition of perpetuating the ancient harboured grudges we call "the stainsof time", in order to ensure my right to watch my children engulfed in flames, to make fresh that buried hatred, so I can get the satisfaction of incinerating another mother's son, & in doing so condemn my own.

My ancestor's children were consumed by fire, & my children, God-willing, will watch my children's children die, for it is a brave & honourable tradition to kill my brother's children, because he first killed mine, because my father killed his children, 

& when the battle's over, & only the remark remains, it'll be hot off the press -

"Men killed men, as they have always done, because of their various attachments to the ashes of various books, which reportedly differed only in title .. AND EVERY WORD MEANT NOTHING TO NO-ONE, HELLBENT ON GOING NOWHERE - AND THEY ALL LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER, WHEN IT ALL RETURNED TO ASHES, WHEN IT ALL RETURNS TO DUST"

J

X

SEXUAL MEANDERINGS

The Jester Speaks .. ON WHY CATS PREFER TO DRINK RUNNING WATER

I was born stupid. 

I wasn't born knowing how to build my own house, like a bird builds its nest, or knowing how to weave a complex trap to snare my prey, as a spider weaves its web.

Most cats prefer to drink running water, while we have to learn from our parents, or by experience, that it's better to drink from a babbling brook than a stagnant pond.


We humans are born stupid.

We tend to think of skills as being something that always need to be learnt, so to us it can seem that other animals are born with a staggering amount of "ancestral knowledge" - knowledge that is contained in their DNA, rather than transmitted by tradition.


But are we really born so stupid ?

No - we have a skill at least as special and unique as those I cited, of the spider and of the bird - our capacity to learn languages is hard-wired into our brains.

Of course, we're not born knowing any specific language, but we don't have to learn how to learn a language.

And just as the spider is equipped with a spinneret with which to realise it's innate skill for web-spinning - we humans come equipped with our own special tool with which to make use of our special skill for learning languages - our big, fat, giant, over-inflated balloon brains.


Still, compared to most animals, we are born seriously lacking in terms of specific knowledge. Relatively speaking our infants are a 'blank slate' - which makes us, as a species, extremely adaptable to different environments - a huge evolutionary advantage.

I imagine the amount of "preset" skills and knowledge that we were born with must have diminished as our capacity for language developed, for the development of language meant we could pass on increasingly sophisticated survival strategies verbally, thus increasing our adaptability, enabling us to flourish in a diverse range of environments.

Think about it - the latter development of written language even enables us to communicate an unutterably vast and specific body of knowledge after we are dead ! - a body of knowledge that each of us can pick and choose from, as individuals, according to the various requirements of the circumstances we encounter.

Furthermore, the development of the Internet has to be the most significant advancement in the evolution of the way we share information collectively since written language emerged, as it gives us a far more immediate means of accessing, and contributing to, this unimaginably enormous body of accumulated data.


Consider - through the administration of a drug scientists have induced sleep-walk in a kitten that has never been outside. The kitten acts out a dream - it appears to be chasing a butterfly, though it has never seen one.

I use this example to draw your attention to how difficult it is to separate the reality of ancestral memories of skills from the possibility of ancestral memories of specific things or even of specific events.

It is here that we enter waters uncharted by modern scientific thought, the muddy twilight realms of pseudo-science and mysticism. Perhaps these are areas that will remain indefinitely unverifiable via scientific methods. Yet "that which cannot be proven to be so" is not necessarily "not so".

Personally - when I consider the remarkable variety of human experiences that appear to verify the existence of a larger and more detailed ancestral memory amongst humans than science today acknowledges, or that we are consciously aware of existing - I am inclined to say that the existence of such a collective memory is "probable".

The various "rational" explanations for these phenomena - that they are the manifestation of complex psychological aberrations, or the child-like coping mechanisms of primitive pre-scientific belief systems - strike me as somewhat tenuous.

If science was able to penetrate this area ? - we could be one step closer to the unification of human knowledge.

Suggested links -

Reincarnation - proof ?

Aborigines' Concept of Dreamtime

Theory of Morphic Resonance

J

X

The Jester Speaks ... ON WAR

Inequity leads to hate.

Injustice leads to hate.

Fear leads to hate.

Hate leads to violence.

Violence leads to inequity, injustice, fear & hate.

This is the whole of war,

this war cannot be won.

I heard there was a Holy War,

a war on hate within,

The only war to end all wars ..

.. I guess that I heard wrong.



J.
X

The Jester Speaks ... ON GUNS

The poster above is an 80s design classic, the stats are from 1985. The situation is much worse today - in 2011 the figure for gun-related fatalities in the US was 32,163, compared to 146 in the UK. In terms of deaths per capita - an individual in the USA is four times more likely to die in a gun-related incident than in the UK. 

... AND FOR MY NEXT TRICK... having just asserted that there are four times as many gun-related deaths per capita in the US, I will attempt to prove a seemingly contradictory claim - that you are actually four times more likely to be killed by a gun in the UK than in the USA !!!

CONSIDER ...

There is, on average, one privately owned fire-arm per person living in the USA, while in the UK there is one gun for every 16 people -  this means that every gun in the UK is four times more likely to kill someone than a gun located in the US. 

Or to put it another way - in the USA guns are responsible for four times as many deaths, but in the UK you are four times more likely to be killed by A gun (ie- any gun in particular). 

TA-DAH!

Okay, its a silly semantic trick, I know no-one is entertained. I can hear the wind whistling through the gravestones. I confess - I was just feeling pleased with myself for managing to work all that out from the statistics and I wanted to show off. Frankly, I was pleased with myself for being able to work out anything from statistics.

But why is each American firearm so much less likely to take a life? There is only one conclusion that can be drawn from this: AMERICANS CAN'T SHOOT FOR LOVE NOR MONEY! Bad choice of expression - love and money have got to be behind a fair few of those 32,163 lethal shootings in America in 2011.

I am left wondering .. if stricter gun laws were introduced in America, reducing gun ownership to an average of one in sixteen people, the same as the UK .. would the number of gun-related deaths per capita fall to the UK level ? Or would any one-particular-gun in America become 16 times more likely to shoot someone ?

The answer is probably somewhere inbetween.

The introduction of stricter gun legislation would seem to me to be a superficial measure, a mere band-aid - what America really needs is to legislate against love and money, the causes of gun crime ! After all ...

THE LOVE OF MONEY IS THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL



I have no problem with ...

J

X

THE PATRON SAINT OF SAVING STRING

Saving String

3:21am, August 4th 2009

I have a life, here, 

with the patron saint of saving string,

not solitary, nay, 

words & mummery make Many,

yet I am just One.

J.

X

BENOWHERE

The doorbell rang this morning. I was not expecting a delivery.

An elderly woman with a slight stoop and sparkling eyes thrust a family size box of Weetabix into my hands. Uncomprehending, I blathered. She caught my glance and smiled, nodding, before scuttling, with startling suddenness, back into the out-of-the-blue.

J.

X

THE AMERICAN STANDARD CODE FOR INFORMATION INTERCHANGE

Dotted, daisy-like, amidst the morass of digital data
Emergent patterns fend for my attention -
The deficit. This hyperspace activity. My disorder.

& behind the veil? Beings & nothingnesses
In massive array. Meaningless. Both form and void,
Yet darkness was upon the face of the deep
Until the Spirit of the browser moved upon the face of the waters ..

& The American Standard Code for Information Interchange said,
"Let there be letters", & there were Words, & for a while the Word was God

Until the Joint Photographics Expert Group said,
"Let there be red, green & blue", & there were pictures,
& boy, it sure was good.

And thus it was: a friend, long-lost, last seen in 1982, in detention,
Located in Arkansas, materialised in person from that binary matrix we now call 'Home' -
He was subjected to my music & my ex, & my first course in insanity.

Now - a new pattern. It emerges. It catches my attention.
His girlfriend, perhaps, possesses a frivolous fetish for facial hair -
On film-stars. On her boyfriend. On a bear.
Three smiling girls all wearing moustaches. They are in America.

I know Everything. I see Everything. I am Everyone. I am Everywhere.

The Secret Poetry of the Cosmic Joke is this:
If it is not on facebook, then it does not exist!

FICTIONAL COMPETITION!: DESIGN THE BEST INVISIBLE PIANO IN THE WORLD!

Who will design the best invisible digital piano in the world? We want to see the keys, but nothing else. KURZWEIL? ROLAND? YAMAHA? KORG? E-MU?

The prize is a documentary of a competition-winning pianist playing on your invisible instrument in a series of spectacular locations, on a journey by land and sea, beginning in the grand-canyon and arriving in Rio in time for the 2016 Olympics (made without environmentally damaging air travel, & taking advantage of the portability of your piano).

The deadline is March 15th 2016 - get working !!!

J

X

PRODUCERS: Please use this pitch, I do really want to see people playing invisible pianos in dramatic locations.

CATFEST3: MOONBOOM@ BIRDS NEST, SAT JULY 20

CATFEST3 is called "MOONBOOM", a name I originally used for an Organ Donner event at the legendary squatted London & Brighton pub, in Peckham, back in 2008. 

I intended it to be a monthly event, held on the weekend closest to the full moon - but those were heady days, and I was spiralling out of control - so it was not to be. There was only one MOONBOOM - until now.

I wanted a darker, more dramatic image for the new CATFEST flier, so I looked at my old files for inspiration - MOONBOOM fitted the bill. 

I checked the calendar - full moon is on Monday July 22nd @10.15am.

And that is how MOONBOOM came to be reborn.

xj.

KEVIN & THE END OF TIME / THE JIGSAW - AN ANTHOLOGY

Kevin & The End of Time / The Jigsaw - an anthology

Final Message From an Old Dog To The World

 I love, I love you, with the lump on my nose,

With my bloodshot eyes, & my bum;

I love, I love you, with the bald spot on my tail,

With my drool, & smell of dog,

& black, black gums

10.05.08

Kisses For Butterfly

 I sent My Butterfly Five Kisses, to say that I had become a man,

Then I sent her Six, to say that I had bin’ talkin' with The Devil,

Then I sent her Seven to say that the bright white light of The Lord is mirror-like,

I had realised my Absolute unity with the Will of The Absolute Consciousness

And it wants me to write a book I can never finish

For a reason I cannot understand.

x x x x x

x x x x x x

x x x x x x x

Immanessence

I’m man essence, man’s semen,

Ice in semen, nascence.

Messiaen! Manic nemeses’ manes!

Mice, Men: same, since men’s nemesis came.

Nice mess,

Amen.

  

N.

NB: The poem above is composed of 9 anagrams of the word ‘Immanessence’. The changes in the colour of the text indicate the beginning of one permutation of these 12 letters & the beginning of the next.

The word 'Immanessence' is a compound word, derived from the words 'immanent' (meaning omni-present/all-pervading) & 'essence' (the inherent, immutable nature of a thing). Thus, the definition of 'Immanessence' is: "the essential, unchanging nature of 'that which pervades everything' ".

Suddenly they were alone

Suddenly, they were alone, & everything fell silent.

Then - with her eyes - she said,

"Forget what you know -

Everyone is beautiful.

The more beautiful you feel,

The more beautiful you are.

Forget the past and future.

Find beauty in the quiet space between breaths.

Feel the harmonies & rhythms of nature flow through you.

Feel the harmonies & rhythms of nature flow between you.

Music is sex."

Then - with his body - he said,

"Forget what you know,

G-d is all of everything;

To deny the existence of G-d

Is to deny that anything exists.

Everything is matter,

Everything is spirit;

There is only one substance,

Vibrating at different frequencies.

Forget the past & future.

Find truth in the quiet space between breaths.

Feel the harmonies & rhythms of the stars flow through you.

Feel the harmonies & rhythms of the stars flow between you.

Sex is music."

Then she made a tiny sound, that welled up from deep within,

& he let out a breath,

& together they stopped time.

17/02/08

Hydra

I am a Christian.

I am a Jew.

I am a Muslim.

I am a Buddhist.

I am a Hindu.

I am a Taoist.

I am a Pagan.

Hydra! - dear dragon! - do stop rolling your snakes’ eyes, & watch your seven tongues -

You’ve been chasing your tail since the day we begun!

It is time to stop fighting your SELF, & remember - you are ONE.

A spell to end war, 2008

Alternate title/cover, 2008

The Fixer

 I'm The Fixer, The Trickster, The Turner of Corners;

Little Miss Muffet, & Little Jack Horner;

I’m Gabriel, The Messenger; & Asrael, The Guide,

Who escorts you, oh!, so gently, into The White Light;

I’m Plato - The Potato! & I'm Socrates - The Sock!

We’re all Jesus, Baby! The Second Conscious Shock.

We’re all Baby Jesus! The Conscious Second Shock.

We’re all Jesus, Baby! The Second Conscious Shock.

I’m a Lighthouse, a beacon; The Seeker, The Seeking;

The Learner, The Learning; The Teacher, The Teaching;

I’m The Wizard of Oz, I'm The Yellow Brick Road,

I'm The Hitch-hiker’s Guide, I’m The High-way Code,

I’m The A-to-Z, I'm The Beginning & The End,

I’m The Alpha & The Omega. Your Nemesis. Your friend.

I’m not a necromancer, I'm not looking for slaves -

‘You seek followers? You seek ciphers.’. Everyone is saved.

Mr. K. mislaid his purpose, he forgot his one true name -

That was the day he lost you, & the day he lost The Game.

BUT! If he can decipher this extra verse that's added on?

Then he understands Magick - & he has just ONE! -

"Living is the answer, to untangle the code,

Rhythm is The Master, who comes from ages old,

Living is The Master, who casts his loom alive,

Who sends his message to you, ’cross the spider’s loom of time."

04/08

Through The Looking Glass

Conscious | Unconscious Unconscious | Conscious Unconscious | Unconscious Conscious | Conscious. Become ONE! Consciousness.	Consciousness | Unconsciousness Unconsciousness | Consciousness Unconsciousness | Unconsciousness Consciousness | Consciousness. Become  ONE ! Conscience.	Everything | Nothing Nothing | Everything Everything | Everything Nothing | Nothing. Become  ONE ! The Absolute.	Seen | Unseen Unseen | Seen Unseen | Unseen Seen | Seen. Become  ONE ! Vision.
Individual | Collective Collective | Individual Individual | Individual Collective | Collective. Become  ONE ! One.	Two | Many Many | Two Many | Many Two | Two. Become  ONE ! One.	Being | Nothingness Nothingness | Being Nothingness | Nothingness Being | Being. Become  ONE ! The Absolute.	Exoteric | Esoteric Esoteric | Exoteric Esoteric | Esoteric Exoteric | Exoteric. Become  ONE ! Reality.
Truth | Secrets Secrets | Truth Secrets | Secrets Truth | Truth. Become  ONE ! Truth.	One | Many Many | One Many | Many One | One. Become  ONE ! One.	Sane | Mad Mad | Sane Mad | Mad Sane | Sane. Become  ONE ! Sanity.	Outside | Inside Inside | Outside Inside | Inside Outside | Outside. Become  ONE ! Reality.
		Sane | Enlightened Enlightened | Sane Enlightened | Enlightened Sane | Sane. Become ONE.

NB: This is a spell to turn lead into gold. This spell is part of a multipack, & is not be sold separately ©2008

Through The Looking Glass:

The obvious [& not-very-secret] secret 14th verse

Consciousness, conscience: the absolute vision!

One! One!: the Absolute reality!

Truth: One! Sanity: Reality.

Become ONE!

Through The Looking Glass: 

The subtler [& slightly-more-secret-secret] 15th verse

 A Ba | A Ka

A Ka | A Ba

A Ka | A Ka

A Ba | A Ba

Become ONE!

Akh

NB: This is s spell to become one with your self. This spell is part of a multipack, & is not to be sold at all, ©2008

I looked into the clear blue sky

I looked into the clear, blue sky,

I gazed into the ice-white light;

I looked into every corner that I could gather,

I archived ev'ry thought & stage & dream -

I AM The Great Librarian in The Sky.

2008

For The Sinners & Their Lovers

THIS is the wise, wild, well-oiled oats,

what I turns upon this spinner -

THIS goin' be the break of day,

THIS goin’ be the dawn of time,

THIS goin’ be the sunshine

For the sinners & their lovers.

All THIS, for THAT crystal-clawed cactus,

THAT Jewel-allied actress - Ally Kraw.

It was dark in the desert,

It was dark ‘n’col’, an’ she shivered,

An’ she shivered more;

For water from her pores

Was in her clothes from the heat before.

Her fingernails, all painted white,

Jus’ like an’ angel jus’ got outta gaol,

Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat on her steering wheel, y’all -

An’ whats more like an angel than that actress-whore,

Rat-a-tat-tat on her steering wheel, y’all ...

   ... In the parkin’ lot ...

         ... of the motel ...

               ... in the desert ...

                      ... in the dark.

THIS goin’ be the break of day,

THIS goin’ be the dawn of time,

THIS goin’ be the sunshine

For the sinners & their lovers.

2008

Devil Dealin’s Done 

Now formless - sometimes frozen - patterns in the sand

guides that sometimes lazy God to raise his ol’ right hand;

Now - If I knows somefin’ - don’ let his left hand know -

His right hand might have made a fist, but never struck a blow.

Don’ play dice with demons, doll, don' listen to this song,

Don’ go dealin’ with devils, Dave, 'coz devil dealin’s wrong -  mmm-mmm -

My devil dealin’s done - mmm-mmm -

My devil dealin’s done - mmm-mmm -

My devil dealin’s done.

2008

Let me tell you something, Mr.K.,

First you will think that I am the Devil.

Then you will think that I am God.

Then you will think that I am You.

Then you will think that you are God & The Devil.

Your girlfriend will think that I am the Devil,

She will think that you are possessed by a devil

& she will leave you.

Mr. K, you are an Angel, yes,

But they will certainly think you are a Devil,

And they may try to put you away -

I know you are not looking forward to this.

If they are wise they will let you stay free,

And only in this novel will you do time in jail or the secure unit,

And you will be a martyr

Only in this novel.

THE BOMB - Alternate cover/title

The Ketamine Blues

I spent the Incapacity on ketamine, it’s true,

& I spent your Dad’s money on ketamine too,

& the money I made, selling ketamine to you -

I spent it on ketamine – I gots the ketamine blues

Addiction ain’t dat easy,

’Cept when yo’ gettin’ high,

But addiction ain’t no problem

When yo’ got a good supply.

A talkin’s over-rated,

A buzzin’ jus’ like flies -

If no-one ne’er said nuffin’

Noboddeh would lie.

I got dem darn ol’ keta-meanie blues,

A'rampagin’ around  muh ol’ round-square brains,

I’ve gots dem bless-ed keta-meanie blues,

Canin’ a crooked k-line for Baby Strange

Co-ord’nashun ain’t dat simple,

Could fall an’ crack yo head,

But you don’ need to co-ord’nate –

Jus’ spend your life in bed !

K got just one drawback –

Either it drives you insane

Or - it’s what gets in you, inbetween,

While you’re on The Astral Plane ,,,

I’ve cried those cuss-ed keta-meanie cries,

Bin’ cookin’ up K mixed with my tears,

I told dem darn ol’ keta-meanie lies,

You said you could read them in my beard

2008/2009

The Celebrated Mr K.

 I have to build still big-bigger lines,  big as Guan’tanmo Bay,

I’m The Prisoner, you are Number 1, THE ONE that got away,

I’m The Princess, in the tower – don’t know what it is I done –

This Porridge is neither hot nor cold. Be seeing you.       Josef K.

2009

K.

I’ll tell you something, you’ll end up taking more and more. And more. Why? Because its like it’s trying to tell you something. But every time you work out what it is? You come out of it and its gone – like you’re shooting holes in the veil of illusion – but they close up quick as you can make ‘em. Eventually a few of the holes stick. And now? You can’t hear it, not exactly, ‘cause it’s your own voice, it’s you – but its saying to you, or you can feel it,

“I got something to tell you, I GOT SOMETHING TO TELL YOU!”

You gotta know what its gonna say, you gotta know! So you end up taking more and MORE – ‘til finally the sheet is all shot through with holes and it falls away – and you didn’t meditate yourself here, you’ve still got your old model of reality, you’ve still got your EGO, yer BAGGAGE – but it’s trying to co-exist with the sphere of universal archetypal characters and narratives buried deep in your unconscious. At this point you’ve effectively got a split personality – there’s you, like a tiny baby, in the face of this ancient, cosmic other, a singularity expressing itself through the myriad masks of a shifting panopoly of subselves – and this other is asking you this riddle,

“Who am I? Can you guess who I am? Who do you think I AM?’.

For a while this ancient, universal part of you might be stronger than you are, you’re possessed by it – you’re still there, but some OTHER is calling all the shots – until you work out the answer – “I AM YOU”. Now, you might not be who you were before, not exactly, though that’s in the mix, but there’s AN OTHER veil, another riddle, yet it is the same riddle – “WHO AM I?”. You keep on shooting holes, more and more holes, ‘til this veil, too, it falls away – you’ve solved the riddle.

Now I understand! What a relief’ you think, ‘now I can stop putting this fucking white stuff up my nose, now I can stop speaking like an old bluesman, now I can start rebuilding my tiny life, my tiny life that The Celebrated Mr K so casually tossed away, this great small life, this life that once seemed like a river – so long, at least as long and as wide as it is, but with a beginning and an end – that now seems life a drop of rain, with infinity within – a single snowdrop that has found the ocean.’

‘There is no God where I AM’

Ba

There are seeds in the water

That seethe in the water

It breathes in the water

It breeds

There are eyes in the water

That arise in the water

It lies in the water

It sees

There are seeds in the water

That seethe in the water

It breathes in the water

It feeds

There are eyes in the water

That arise in the water

It lies in the water

It’s Me

x

Official Jester mental health warning: This is a very bad spell. If chanted while cooking up Ketamine in a frying pan and gazing into the bubbling ‘eyes in the water’ you are guaranteed to summon something - probably something pretty scary and/or downright evil. If you still think this is a good idea – take it from me, it isn’t. I wouldn’t read it out aloud at all, if I were you. I wouldn’t even read it in my head from beginning to end - but it’s too late for you to worry about that now. Hahahahahahaha! 2008

Stunners           

Well, I’m not gay,

but I’m a-suck-suck-suckin’ on dis trannies cock-stub

like it was a hive of lemons at the dawn of time, babies -

‘cause the ketamine an’ the G, they sez ‘hello!’

and I realise, all at once,

that I iz the beginnings & the ends of everything, babies,

& that none of the rules apply to me –

‘cause for one day only - I iz the transmogrifier of dem jellied-eel-space-vitamins

for the one-handed, eagle-haloed time-bandit some call G-d.

Sorry, mate, I’ve jus’ realized, sonny,

when your cock cries ‘gonna blow, gonna blow!

Gonna blowblow blowBLOW BLOW!’ -

sorry, mate, I’m gettin’ outta here first -

I’m just not gay enough, & while

your purple spermatozoa might like the back of my throat

like a baby loves it’s mama’s milk -

I’d rather swallow razors

than drink your purplestinking space-juice - babies!

Tell you what- jus’s gimme summa dem darn fine jellied-eel-space-vitamins of love & death,

& ahm a-gonna go & find myself a real woman - right now!

‘cause I been a-lookin’ a-deep-down-dark,

a-deep-down-dark inside,

cause I bin a-lookin’ deep-down-dark

insides your honey eyes -

yet all I see is me, mate,

inside your funny eyes, mate,

and its all very nice, & that, mate,

but I can do that alone at home -

mate.

2008

The Long and Lonely Road of Song

No, not lost, love knows no fear,

The ink is wet but the map is clear

I belong along the long’n’lonely road, of song, My Dear,

I belong alone along the long’n’lonely road of song.

2008

the gates of the end of times

We are too far gone,  you will always be my other,

Without you I am absolutely alone.

I rides the gates of the end of times and a million possible hells,

You are the mirror-like-one, spread soft, like kitten-silk,

Upon which screen I cast my dreams,

I will always be without you and within you,

Longin’, longin’, longin’ for loving kindness to return.

2008

I’m Here, I’m Here

What fate befalls the calls I cannot hear?

You cast the very last, I fear, into thin air –

into the vast thin air

I’m here, I’m here, in the vast thin air

When you grasped me in our lost, past time,

you thought you caught me passin’ by,

reflected in the grass and sky

I’m here, I’m here, in the grass and sky

Don’ be afraid, you’ve found me, hear my heart,

the clouds reform in stones’n’storms’n’spoons’n’tears

 ...an’stars

I’m here, I’m here, in the tears and stars

We are too far gone,  you will always be my other,

Without you I am absolutely alone

I rides the gates of the end of times and a million possible hells,

You are the mirror-like-one, spread soft, like kitten-silk,

Upon which screen I cast my dreams,

I will always be without you and within you,

Longin’, longin’, longin’ for loving kindness to return

I’m here, I’m here, with you, my dear

2008/2009

I LovE You So mUch My Insides HuRt!

You are The Question, & I AM The Answer,

You are The Thinker, & I AM The Dancer,

I AM The Future, & you are The Past -

Mine is the first language, &yours is the last.

You are The Hunter, & I am The Farmer,

I’m The World Healer & you’re The Self-harmer,

I’m Adam, The Beginning, & I’m Christ, The End,

& you are the bit in the middle, my friend.

And I love you so much my insides hurt

And I love you so much my insides hurt

You’re Eve, the first woman, you’re my evolution,

You’re The Riddler, The Riddle, & this is The Solution:

I’m The Joker, I’m laughing, for my time has come -

This party’s in your honour - I’m buildin’ a bomb!

You’re Batgirl, you’re beautiful, I love you, forgive me,

Forgive your SELF, forgive the victims, I need you with me.

You grow up to be Catwoman, so proud & so pretty,

OUR anti-matter LOVE-bomb WILL unexplode Gotham City!

I AM THE ONE & you are THE OTHER,

I am Joseph, son of Jacob, who forgave his brothers

And I love you so much my insides hurt

And I love you so much my insides hurt

2009

Heaven

You thought the world was a game,

You thought the world was a competition.

All along you were racing for that stolen crock of gold,

In search of profits, gains and margins at The Rainbow’s end,

When The Rainbow’s prophets perform Alchemy with souls alone.

You were always restlessly pursuing, or searching, for an Other

Or running or hiding from some ‘Devil’ (Your SELF! Your MOTHER!)

You thought the world a game, a competition.

All along the world was actually a stage,

A stage in the process of the progress of the passage of high creation –

And the next stage is even better!

You thought the world was a game, you thought the world was a competition.

“When the doors of perception are cleansed you will perceive all things as they truly are – infinite” [BLAKE]

You will see that, all along,

I was HIM as you were HIM as you were ME

And that we were always all TOGETHER.

You will see that, all along,

I was ALWAYS another you

And everything will be illuminated.

I AM

SLEEPERS AWAKE! REMEMBER YOURSELF! REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE!

I AM The Prism at The Beginning of Time

I AM The Prism at The Beginning of Time,

I AM The Light that shines through it,

I AM the raindrops at the beginning of the Rainbow,

I AM the sunlight that shines through the rain.

I AM The ONE, broke The Pure White Light’s Heart,

Mirror-like, it shattered, love & will torn apart,

Seven tribes scattered, seven splintered shards-

Some Devil dealt you seven low-scoring cards

I AM The Prism at The End of Time

At the end of HIS story WE break out of the prison

LOVE & WILL will BECOME our ONE reason

I’ll be a spinning-top, I’ll be a plate-spinner, I’ll be a Dervish, a priest

When Seven become One, the long wait is done, & all of your suffering shall cease

Prayer for A Supersized Southern Belle in The Spiderworld

NOW! Enjoy yo’self!  Yo’ reams o’ foamy baloney,

Yo’ more than ’nuff for any prevert what los’ his lid,

For anyone’s whats wanted mo’ an more, an’ forgot t’stop -

Yo’ the cookies’n’d’cream for d’cream’n’cookie kidz

Baby sure can talk the talk -

BUT BABY! Yo’ can barely walk

2008

Broken

You cry ’cause you’re strong, ’cause you’re strong you cry,

You cry ’cause you’re strong, ’cause you’re strong you cry

I know you’re broken, baby, I know you’re broken,

I know you’re broken, baby, I know you’re broken

Got a fix, got a quick fix, baby,

It’s a sweet fix, like Pritt-stick, baby

Got a fix, got a quick fix, baby,

It’s a cheap fix, like Blu-tac, baby

Not the Superglu gonna mend your soul,

Not the Superglu gonna make you whole

You lie ’cause you're wrong, ’cause you're wrong you lie,

You lie ’cause you're wrong, ’cause you're wrong you lie

I know you’re broken, baby, I know you’re broken,

I know you’re broken, baby, I know you’re broken

Got a draw, take a deep drag, baby,

It’s the real deal, like Ronseal, baby

Got a draw, take a deep drag, baby,

It’s a deep, cheap clean like Domestos Gel, baby

Sex, the Superglu gonna seal our souls,

Love is the Loctite gonna make us whole

The Mirror-Like White Light

As soon as you become aware of presence,

The moment I make myself known to you,

At that moment you will know me by what I do

And you will name me in accordance with your understanding of

“Who it is that you have named as the one who does the things I do”

And what is it that you perceive I do?

I rob you of your will, replacing it with mine,

I claim your soul as my own,

I require that you love me above all things.

And because you perceive that I kill you, rob you and enslave you,

And because I am unknown to you and you fear me,

And because you think you can see that I will take your precious jewels for my own,

That I will turn your hoarded treasure to ordinary stones,

Replace your material ‘gold’ with baser metals

And turn your living flesh to dry bones, you despise me,

You run from me.

Do not be afraid.

Even as you run from me

See that I am YOUR fear and that you have nothing to fear but fear itself, namely ME.

I am death, if that is what you fear.

I am The Devil, if it is The Devil you fear.

It is in this way that I am the mirror-like spirit at the beginning and the end of time.

When you run from my white light red-shift occurs: run, run, run!

  

See the fiery furnace of your imminent destruction in hot pursuit!

However fast you run the gates of hell draw closer!

Abandon hope.

Abandon hope and enter me.

I dare you to confront me,

I am your deepest fears!

You cannot run,

Walk towards me.

Walk into the fire.

Walk towards the light.

Do not abandon hope,

Abandon yourself.

Do not lose yourself,

Abandon yourself.

There now, my child,

There are no Devils, Magicians, Vampires, Ghosts, Demons.

Yes, there is a dual nature to the manifestations of individual forms that arise in my great wholeness:

Without duality there could not be variation

And without variation I would not be any different from the Nothingness.

I am Being.

I am The Being.

I am The Being at The Beginning and The End of Time.

I am The Beginning and of The End of Time.

I am Time.

The End of Time is The Beginning of Time.

The Beginning of Time is at The End.

I am the spirit of The Absolute, of Absolutely Everything,

I am the spirit of The Whole,

The Whole Spirit,

The Holy Spirit,

The Ghost of The Whole,

The Holy Ghost:

I am the Mirror-like-white-light!

All apparently individuated forms are expressions of my timeless, eternal overflowing expression of divine love, consciousness, intelligence and joy

And you better believe it, baby!

You thought I came to rob your will?

Your will was always mine.

You thought I wanted to steal your soul?

Your spirit never left the entirety of all.

You thought I required of you that I love you above all things?

I AM the true love above all things and through them.

Yes, when you die I will take back your jewels,

Both the trinkets that you borrowed and the precious gifts I gave you to equip you for your mission.

Do not be afraid,

In the end no-one is damned.

The destination of the most developed sages and the ultimate fate of all things:

Returning home to the Absolute Consciousness, Buddhahood.

Just as your dead body’s constituent elements will be slowly sorted and transformed in a chemical conversation with my soil

Your spiritual elements will be slowly sorted and transformed in a spiritual conversation with my soul,

If nothing  remains of you following this conversation, if there is no crystal, no jewel,

Then you will simply know that you are G-d.

Let it be known:

You are free to return to me, at any time, in life or death,

You were always a mini-me to my Dr Evil,

Your personal nature not unlike mine in microcosm.

Oh, Brave Ones!

You who have stepped outside The Kingdom of Heaven!

Know then that you can return at any time.

28/07/08

I, GAME MAGI.

I, ENIGMA, IMAGINE I AM A GENIE.

WE ARE ALL GENIUSGENIUSES!

WHO IS THE GENIE? US!

YOU ARE A GENIUS.

I, ENIGMA, IMAGINE I AM MAGIC.

WE’RE ALL JESUSJESUS, BABY!

WHO IS THE MAGE? US!

YOU ARE A MAGUS.

WE ARE ALL THE LAST PROPHETS AT THE END OF TIME!!!

I Was Mad, But I Came Back

Now everyone knows: yes, for a moment,  I was mad - but I came back. 

If I was still mad, this is what I would now say to you:

“Is it right for me to sell the things these hands have fashioned?

Were they ever mine to sell? Could I sell my hands themselves?

Like my hands, the things these hands have forged are gifts from that come from everywhere and nowhere.  They were never mine to sell, I could no more sell my hands themselves.

Yes, I joyfully catch them! It is with the greatest pleasure that I interpret them. And throughout my life I have always, and will always, strive, against all odds, to score them for ‘reality’.

I was dreaming before I was born, and from that moment I knew I had to build a dreamcatcher. And now that, against all odds,  I am finally become the semblance of The Dreamcatcher that I wished that I could build?

Then it is, alas, time to set about the ‘proper’ sharing - iceberg-tip-like - of my dream and vision.

My dreams and visions –

I must learn to let each one of you go, to fend for yourself – cast adrift into a world that only waits, a swarm of looming vultures perched, to tear you to shreds and consume you.

My dreams

ready to leave the nest,

goodbye

and good riddance

it was only proper you should remain hidden from view

while you were getting changed into your ball-dress:

you can come out now, come out, please come out, do,

yes, people will laugh and look away –

but that is the point –

you are THE joke.

In all honesty, Truth,

though you look so very perfect now,

in your tattered gown –

you are,

I confess,

not what I would chosen to have dreamed at all.

But then you can no more chose your children’s path than your fathers.

Indeed - before I could properly see the proper way to build a dreamcatcher  -

it was necessary, first, to choose my fathers’ path.

This is the manner in which I began planning for the past,

an operation that I fortuitously completed just half an hour before I began

 - meaning it was not necessary to stay insane very long to achieve the desired effect

SALE OF THE CENTURY. Yes, indeed, I do actually have an unbelievable urge just to give it all away. Unfortunately, having offered a free service for 34 years, I now find myself in dire financial trouble. I am called to sell all I have and all I have are these dreams.

You are welcome to take first pick of this amazing never-seen-before windfall, this endless feast, namely the joy and fear of music. The first take is always the best – because the first take is the actuality, it IS the being of the thing itself, and everything else is just echoes. Let us commune joyfully in anything we share.

Now everyone knows: yes, for a moment,  I was mad, but I came back. 

Now, friendly-welfare-state-I-paid-for, allow this dreamseller enough time to set up his stall. Please! I am going to start playing your game. It is not my game, forgive me my trepidation, I find no joy in soiling my wares with your filthy money.  Deal me in, Mr Bush, Mr Brown, I can play, see me selling people things that are already theirs? Have I learnt well? Do I get the job? I already got a job.

Alternate title/cover, 2008

Last Lies From a Beast

My, my, my, Gypsy Girl, why, you’re so ah be-a-you-tea-full this mornin’,

There’s an aurora about you, your wings, they're trans-lucifer-scent in the half-light,

I’m half crazy when I’m about you - and how! - half crazy without you, now,

We’re so wicked! – but never lazy, baby - jus’ bountiful’n’hazy, baby,

It’s all in the scenes from The Cathedral at The End of Time,

Amazin’ grace, divine glory, shinin’ in in the mornin’, baby,

The last lines from the final act, the last lies from a beast

The first lady layed bare, Leo, at The Gates of Eden,

By bachelors and rapists, papists, vampires and Beelzebub’s first bride

At the Gates of The Illusion of The Dawn of Time - Listen! - Hide!

Its thunder sent at the at the wonderment of the eminent line,

We’re the A-list in heaven, but we’re the Z-list on earth,

Unless you’re prepared to put your head in the vice -

My hair is on fire, honey, so don’ get too close ...

I’m the pastor-physician, fixing up lines,

I’m the Master Magician, come to fix Time,

I’m shaggy, I’m baggy, baby, I’m erect, alert and perky,

I’m pinky, I’m pert, maybe I’m barking, but I’m I’m smart -

I’m John Steed: The Unavenger, on his final mission for Mother,

We’re Rosemary’s Babies, The White Horse has gone underground,

We’re all doing time and we’re the first in line to be released.

I’m magnetic, you’re pragmatic, we’re wasted, we’re wired,

You’re electric, you’re a lady, we’re ecstatic, we’re crazy,

We’re The World’s least favourite party – it’s time to get blasted!

We’re jelly babies, we’re wolfin’ blue Smarties,

We’re Sufi’s, but broken, on this blue, blue earth,

Lost upon heaven’s one true path, on mankind’s foul perfume,

Seduced - good book, line and sinker

I’m a mountain, you’re a valley, I’m treading on toes,

I’m trippin’ the light brightly, with a crystalline nose,

It’s a diamond, it’s breakfast, it’s Tiffany’s hearts,

It’s miracle lungs, things fall apart, I’m speakin’ in tongues.

I’m Aladdin, Gene Genie, splicing devils and angels,

Synchronised swimmers in a river of blood,

At mankind’s last orgy in the primordial mud

The succour, this candour, the Will’o’the Wisp,

This fucker will fuck her, then give her a kiss,

This necromancer’s a chancer, chooses where he lays,

Where’er his hatful o’ pennies is he stays,

This Joker’s last mime comes at the end of this verse,

Beelzebub’s birthday, the end of the curse,

It’s a miracle, baby, time will be reversed.

Love is unlocked and sex unconfused,

The unseen revealed, the story’s concludes.

Love is you, love is blinding,

The Mirror-like White Knight,

Love is The Dancer and Love is the light,

Love is the answer and Love is the key

To the door in the veil of the free.

There are no more delusions, illusions, no lies,

Now you’re The Lords of The Stars? Fuck the flies!

The vessel is empty, the vessel is full,

Upon the wheels of eternity the vessel is still,

I AM free, like the only One, in love with his lives,

As The Dragon adores the beast,

At The End of Time.

Fuck Music, fuse muses, debase the abusers,

My princesses are fuchsia’s, yours are illusions -

On Monday we’ll turn wine to water,

On Tuesday we’ll swim on the land,

On Wednesday we’ll eat the five thousand,

And on Thursday we’ll turn gold to sand

- The greatest miracle is THIS

We’ll spend a long time waiting and searching,

For the silver birch, The Moon, me and yew,

When the fig leaves, they fall, from The Great Masters,

We’ll stand naked and stoned, on the banks of The Thames,

The sacred scales will fall from our eyes

And Ra will tell us to return,

One more time.

For our souls weigh more than the bodies of men,

We’ll fall from the sky - yes - we all sold The World,

For a magic bean, an apple, and a single grain of sand.

 I’ll call you a daffodil, for you’ll come in The Spring,

When the Green Man raise’ his hand o’er this land

One more time.

Final Message From The World to an Old Dog

I love, I love you, for the lump on your nose,

For your bloodshot eyes and your bum,

I love, I love you, for the bald spot on your tail,

For your drool, and smell of dog

and black, black gums ..

.. now DIE.
the end

03.10.09