Thread: Wasteland Revisited

Code:

Wasteland Revisited

“Kunst ist tot.� – and she would reply “I want to die.�

I.****The Night of the Living Dead

When I was thirty years old, 
I left my home,
And the lake of my home
To walk out into the word; a world
Where gray haired men still bent over plow
Breathing heavily, or spent their last evenings
Sighing over books with pages browned, no longer eager for their
Reading. I came to bring them hope, 
To bring light into their
Living rooms. I sought to make them
Dance- I came bringing enlightenment!
But the wind withered me;
April is the cruelest month,
And from it’s cruel, wrenching hands
Only are tubers sitting sung in soil safe.
In the end I succumbed to the wind, 
trodden down by beaten horse’s hooves.
**** It’s true, it’s really true;
******** I have attained the age of reason. A
************** tomb now suffices me
****************** for whom the whole word was not sufficient.

Here he roams lost in labyrinthian city streets
His head a jumble of life’s melodies and beats.
Here he roams, head fogged by the slithering zither
Lured on by Siren’s voice commanding him hither.
Here he stumbles, head flash- maddening fire
Heart burning bright, its flames rising higher-
A blazing soul wrapped in clouds of vomiting consciousness

Searching for relief he looks deep, longingly,
Into the bottom of a whisky jar-
Finding nothing but dashed hopes
And curdled vomit.
Wreching he calls out
For a woman on sandy beach
Outside**New Jersey
************ The woman of the sun, her name is Aphrodite!
********************************************The woman of the sun her name is Aphrodite! 

If only love could cure us, baptism by lust,
By dreams- through passion’s cry
Then he could be saved.

******************Fourmillante cte, cite plenie de reves. 
Unreal City!
I gaze down at you,
Squinting through the brown winter dawn
At a crowd flowing over Brooklyn Bridge, so many
I had not thought that life had undone so many.
Unreal City!
I gaze above you-
A dark star crashes
Pouring its light into ashes,
As the heavens open up,
Raining down the slings and arrows
Of outrageous misfortune
Upon the drenched crowd. 
Unreal City!
Unreal City,
It was your work that darkened these clear eyes-
Your father’s eyes
As you once knew them, 
Though he never
Saw, nor knew what he did.

“Come now, it’s really not so bad. You 
know people are bound to go through these things,
he just wasn’t the one. Come now, I’ll take you
out shopping, you’ll forget about him. You’ve much to
live for.�





II.****A Game of Love

She looked lovely with
Those pearls that were his eyes
Around her neck, touching
The supple flesh just inches
Above those two perfect
Breasts, swelling like stormy seas
Over the lip of her crimson blouse,
As she took her seat across from me.
I smiled 
And she
Smiled back.
I fidgeted nervously with the
Menu, unsure of what to say,
As time stood painfully still
Under the unblinking crystal stare
Of florescent bulbs overhead.


Should I compare her to a summer’s day?
But how can one think of such things,
Deep in the winter of their discontent? 
I needed her back, but what to say?
What to say?

She spoke silver thread,
Unraveling into silken stream,
Sultry words slithering like snakes.
The voice of my beloved!
She is the rose of Sharon
And the lily of the valleys

Once I was beloved
And she was mine
She who picked flowers
Yellow flowers
Before she lead me to the place
Of my heart’s crouching.

She stared back complacently as I paid the bill.
A thorn among lilies
So is her love among the daughters.
At the end of the night, 
As we stood basking 
In golden electric light.
She put her arms around me yes
And drew me down to her
So I could feel her breasts
All perfume yes
And my heart went mad yes.

He heard the latch unfasten.
The door was open a small crack,
With two squinting, suspicious eyes
Peering out of the darkness.
He pushed forward into the room,
The old woman staring at him, gawking in surprise-
“Good evening, Alyona Ivanovna.�

It was a small apartment on the fourth floor of the building
The floor was hardwood, made of oak
Inside were various objects of all sorts, mostly gold or silver
There were also some pearls.
In the room a man and a woman were talking
From the open window floated conversation of two painters
Working on the 6th floor
 “But what has he tied it up like this for?�
And down came the axe
The blood gushed as from an overturned glass
In another few minutes the man would kill again
************** And this would begin him on the path
************************************************************** To his salvation





III: Bobble-Head Buddha Makes a Speech

Bobble-Head Buddha wooble bobbles
On the dash board.
Wooble ooble obble.
Tip taping his head 
To the meter of his words.
His metered, measured words
Which pop plop out,
Exploding plosives
In senseless syllables
Conveying all that is the Universe.
The driver of that car does not listen to
The Bobble-Headed guru,
But he will speak anyway.
A pothole bump, whilst
Going down a grayblack 
Stretch of Long Island streetroad
Flanked up and down by the same houses
And further down by the same Targets
And Seven Elevens, marks his explanation
Of the Big Bad Bang.

Booble wobble, topple tipped
**************************Pothole jump sputter
**********Sentence twist words-
******************** Out of words
******And into being been bobbling boobaling
****************************And wobble topple 
******** In the gyrating gyre 
****************Of flacon wing’s bobble blurs-
**************************** The centre cannot hold!
******************ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE HERE
Of a timeless time.
Speak O muse of the wobbling wander-
Of death by water,
In the time when God’s ate men.
And lipsmacked around cracked bones
From atop ivory bone thrones,
Supported by the groans
And lamentations of the meager mortals.
Booble woooble topple tipped
Sounds of fury-
A tale told by an idiot, signifying nothing.

The cars engine purred on down the twisting streets,
Heading towards the city.
As the driver, a discerning man of science
States blankly
I love the sound of children dying
As around him rise futurist wet dreams 
Embodied in pillars
Of steel
And stone.
The one’s who killed Jesus built this city;
(Unreal City!)
They priced his limbs with nails, 
and later his stomach with a spear,
and he looked up from the cross
and he spoke unto them shouts of:
************Help!
************I’m hemorrhaging cranberry juice!
and so they bandaged him with rags- dirty oil rags
and kept him alive by pumping his veins full of sweat
and oil.

(I think you stuck my friend with knives,
****************one in his heart
**********and three in each side.
******************************************************Knives! Knives!)

Gott ist tot! Gott ist tot!
Long live God!





**********IV. Death by Water

Tell us of the storm tossed man,
Who wandered the sea
For 10 years lost.
Tell us of Phlebas the Phonecian,
Of who’s eyes we made a necklace
With which to strangle
Ourselves.
Tell us of Jack Sparrow, pirate hero
Who tamed the God of the Sea
Black Calypso, 
All the while in search of good sprits.
Yes tell us, 
tell us, 
of Death by Water.

******************** Gentile or Jew
O you who set sail and embark upon the seas of life
Consider Phlebas the Phonecian, who was slain by you.
************** (we put one in his heart and three in each side)





V. What the Lightening Heard

Let us go you and I
When our evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient nitrousized on a table.
Let us bask in the twilight of the idols.
We will walk the city streets
Stared down by windows
Whose glazed eyes
Gleam brightly back at us
Twinkling in the electric starlight
A man will walk by us
Howling cries of love and music
Pining away for a woman of the sun
We will turn the corner and see a man
Step out of an old wooden building
Muttering Russian insanities
Two murders sinking maddeningly over his mind
And over there in the golden light
Too young lovers in passion yes
And we will walk amongst stone walls
Over cracked sputtering rock
Through an electric land
Charged and sparking
Stuttering prayers to the moon overhead
A chrome box standing on the side lifeless
Deathless
And if it had life
It would wheel around
Like R2D2 and bleep beep kindnesses to us
But it will not wheel around
The steel will not die.

Flickering fire light on sobbing faces
Sand blowing in their eyes
Rising from the desert with the howling winds
Howling songs to the deathless night

If there were water,
And no rock-
If there were rock,
And also water,
We would dance at the graveyard 
In the night,
Slipping slipshod in the bourbon rain,
That was called by a cocks crow,
Listening to the electric howl of rock
Screaming Dionysian chants.
We would dance.
The steel walls would come crumbling down,
And the King would be carried off into the stars
(The Jester having long since stolen his thorny crown)
By a glowing green disk
Flittering across the sky.
We would dace.
And the dead would be grateful
As we spun our art across the world
In shades of crimson blood,
sky azure,
and deep purple.

What banshee wail is that?
What siren’s call?
Rising tower
New York San Francisco Beijing
Tokyo Toronto New Deli
Real! (unreal city!) 
********************************Unreal city

A rat scuttered through the cracks and around
A clump of crinkled newspaper,
Stopping to sniff at a red paper McDonalds
Cup- With a roar 
came flying down upon the rat
A screeching silver snake of cold chrome.
On its nose there blazed a blue circle with an
A imprinted in the middle of it.
“This is a Queens Bound…. A train…. next stop… Fulton.�

“I’d fuck Adolf Hitler, he wasn’t bad looking. He had
that cute little mustache. I bet those little bristles
would feel good twitching over my clit.�
But alas nothing would surprise us any more.

****** kike shit cream piss city urban death fuck//---
NIEN!

Behold the King of Men!
Ecce Homo! 
A tale told by an idiot signifying nothing!
A whirling phantasm of words and
Dialectical thesis anti-thesis
Sin Thesis at the lick her store
Good for the hole
A theist thesis, my my, we haven’t seen one of those in decades
Not since the blue eyed devil came around
Fight night- Friday night lights
Dionysius VS. the Crucified 
thus spoke Zoro, asked her
“and what of the Spaniards?�-
as he cut a Z into his opponents flesh
(he stuck him with knives, one in the heart and three in each side)
Hope is there hope
Hope still to hope
Hope to heap up hope
Pity pity pity pity ty- ty- ty- pity pity- pity ty –ty –ty ty tee te tee tee tea te tea
Pity Count Andreovich!
Teee – ti- ti ty –ty tee tea te
**************** Liberty,****** Equality,******** Brotherhood
Ecrasez l’infame!
And so, stuck in time looping over loops and looping over loops and
Looping over loops
The patriarch of Macondo decended into madness
Pacing past the room
Were La Maga’s first born was to die.
I could find better uses for the trillions played annually than war
Gott ist tot! I am prepared to rule the world-
Gott ist tot! Kunst ist tot!
**************** Shantih****shantih****shantih

Notes:
1. Kunst ist tot = Art is dead in German, a play on Nietzsche’s God is Dead, for the modernists art was to replace God in the 20th century as a moralizing force.

2. and she would reply “I want to die.� = line from Petonius’s Satyricon, about a prophet Sibyl who had gained eternal life but not eternal youth so she grew forever more withered. It is used in to open Eliot’s Waste Land as well.


3. Night of the Living Dead: Mimics Eliot’s first section, Burial of the Dead, life is the opposite, popculture reference to Romero’s film.

4. First 3 lines = opening lines of Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathursta- Translation R.J. Hollingdale

5. April is the cruelest month = opening line Eliot’s Waste Land, it is based of the opening of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales.

6. beaten horse’s hooves. = Nietzsche’s final mental breakdown was precipitated by the sight of a horse being beaten

7. It’s true… =last line’s of Sartre’s the Age of Reason, translation Eric Sutton

8. A tomb…= Alexander the Great’s epitaph

9. “wrapped in clouds of vomiting consciousness = lyrics from a friend’s band, the city wanderer was their guitar player who ended up being committed/addicted to heroin

10. Outside New Jersey/The woman of the sun, her name is Aphrodite! =from same song

11. Fourmillante cite, cite pleine de reves = “swarming city, city full of dreams� French from Baudelaire, the Flower of Evil (1859) Referenced by Eliot as well in his first “Unreal city!

12. Opening lines of the following stanza mimic Eliot’s city description- “I had not thought life had undone so many� opposite of Eliot’s “I had not thought death had undone so many� originally from Dante’s Inferno Canto III

13. A dark star crashes/ Pouring its light into ashes = Grateful Dead lyrics

14. Slings and arrows… = Hamlet, Shakespeare obviously

15. It was your work that darkened = Spoken by Oedipus in Oedipus Rex by Sophoclese- Translation E.F Watling

15. A Game of Love- Eliot’s second part is “A Game of Chess,� which follows the love story of a woman for it’s opening.

16. Those pearls that were his eyes- From Eliot’s Waste Land, pearls were his Phoenician Sailor’s eyes


17. Should I compare her to a summer’s day?/ Winter of our Discontent- from Shakespeare’s 18th Sonnet, the later is from Richard III

18. The voice of my beloved!/She is the rose of Sharon/And the lily of the valleys play on lines of the Song of Solomon in the Old Testament, many lines next stanzas play on imagery borrowed from the Bible.

19. Once I was beloved/And she was mine… crouching- Play on lines from Toni Morrison’s Beloved in a chaptered were the Ghost of the protagonists baby speaks using imagery that reflects the middle passage as the “crouching.� Here middle passage reflects passage of heartbreak.

20. She put her arms around me yes…yes- play on the closing lines of James Joyce’s Ulysses.

21. He heard the latch unfasten…. Rest of the section is a description of Raskolnikov’s murders in Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment. Lines of dialogue are direct from Constance Garnett’s translation.

22. : Bobble-Head Buddha Makes a Speech = Eliot’s Third Section is called the fire Sermon for a speech Buddha gave

23. gyre/ the centre cannot hold- Yeats used the image of the gyer often in his poems the later is a line from his poem “The Second Coming.�

24. Sounds of fury-/A tale told by an idiot, signifying nothing. = based on Faulkner’s Sound and the Fury, originally based from Shakespeare.


25. ABANDON ALL HOPE- play on Dante’s Inferno, canto where Dante enters hell proper from limbo.

26. I love the sound of children dying- opening line of an Alexander Blok poem, Blok was a prominent Russian futurist, a movement supported by Lenin and Stalin till the advent of socialist realism early in Stalin’s rule.

27. Cranberry juice- From Blok’s Poem the Puppet Show.

28. I think you stuck my friend with knives… From Black Flag’s Three Nights off of My War

29. Gott Ist Tot = God is dead, German, from Nietzsche.

30. Death by Water = Part 4 of Eliot’s work has the same title.

31. Tell us of the storm tossed man, = opening lines of Homer’s Odyssey

32. Phlebas the Phonecian, from Eliot’s Death by Water section

33. Jack Sparrow = from Disney movie Pirates of the Caribbean

34. Gentile or Jew… this section mimics Eliot’s end to Death by Water.

35. What the Lightening Heard – Eliot’s last section to the Waste Land was what the Thunder Said, based on Hindu uppishads.

36. Let us go you and I…a patient nitrousized on a table. = opening lines of Eliot’s The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock- only ether has been replaced by the more modern nitrous oxide.

37. twilight of the idols – title of one of Nietzsche’s works

38. R2D2 = Starwars duh

39. Jester’s thorny crow - from Don Mclean’s American Pie

40. If there were rock – from apex of Eliot’s Waste Land

41. bourbon rain/That was called by a cock’s crow, - in Eliot’s Waste Land the rain is called by a cock

42. King carried off. = allusion to Elvis being kidnapped by aliens myth

43. Dead are Grateful, deep purple = rock and roll references

44. New York San Francisco Beijing/Tokyo Toronto New Deli = in Eliot’s Waste Land there is a similar list of cities following a loud call, these are more modern cities of the 20th centuries emerging world powers instead of European cities fro Eliot’s work.

45. Ecce Homo= behold the man in Latin, title of Nietzsche’s self-critical work, comes from when spoken in the Bible by pilot of Jesus.

46. Dialectical thesis anti-thesis – Karl Marx’s theory of dialectic epistemology

47. Sin Thesis at the lick her store – synthesis at the liquor store

48. Dionysius VS. the Crucified – last lines of Nietzsche’s Ecce Homo

49. Pity…. = based on Prince Andre’s death hallucinations in Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace.

50. Liberty, Equality, Brotherhood = mottos of the French Revolution

51. Ecrasez l’infame!- crush the infamy, often used line of Voltaire’s

52. The patriarch of Macondo decended into madness- that patriarch of Macondo becomes stuck in time and thus becomes a ghost in Marquez’s 100 Years of Solitude

53. Were La Maga’s first born was to die.- referencing Cortazar’s Hopscotch, this work is also referenced in 100 Years of Solitude

54. I could find better uses for the trillions played annually than war/Gott ist tot! I am prepared to rule the world- lines from an alternate draft of Ecce Homo written just days before Nietzsche’s final break down and as he was starting to show signs of insanity broken up by Nietzsche’s great phrase God is Dead.

55. Shantih- the peace which pass understanding in Hindi, traditional end to an Upanishad, the Upanishads comment on the sacred Hindu scriptures the Vedas. Eliot’s Wasteland ends the same way.

I posted the first one from an old file, this one is the same minus a few deleted lines and all spelling, apostrophe problems are fixed and I have adapted punctuation to better suit desired effect. READ THIS ONE if you haven't read the other yet

Code:

Wasteland Revisited

“Kunst ist tot.� – and she would reply “I want to die.�

I.****The Night of the Living Dead

When I was thirty years old, 
I left my home,
And the lake of my home
To walk out into the word; a world
Where gray haired men still bent over plow
Breathing heavily, or spent their last evenings
Sighing over books with pages browned, no longer eager for their
Reading. I came to bring them hope, 
To bring light into their
Living rooms. I sought to make them
Dance- I came bringing enlightenment!
But the wind withered me;
April is the cruelest month,
And from it’s cruel, wrenching hands
Only are tubers sitting sung in soil safe.
In the end I succumbed to the wind, 
trodden down by beaten horse’s hooves.
**** It’s true, it’s really true;
******** I have attained the age of reason. A
************** tomb now suffices me
****************** for whom the whole word was not sufficient.

Here he roams lost in labyrinthian city streets
His head a jumble of life’s melodies and beats.
Here he roams, head fogged by the slithering zither
Lured on by Siren’s voice commanding him hither.
Here he stumbles, head flash- maddening fire
Heart burning bright, its flames rising higher-
A blazing soul wrapped in clouds of vomiting consciousness

Searching for relief he looks deep, longingly,
Into the bottom of a whisky jar-
Finding nothing but dashed hopes
And curdled vomit.
Wreching he calls out
For a woman on sandy beach
Outside**New Jersey
************ The woman of the sun, her name is Aphrodite!
********************************************The woman of the sun her name is Aphrodite! 

If only love could cure us, baptism by lust,
By dreams- through passion’s cry
Then he could be saved.

******************Fourmillante cte, cite plenie de reves. 
Unreal City!
I gaze down at you,
Squinting through the brown winter dawn,
At a crowd flowing over Brooklyn Bridge, so many,
I had not thought that life had undone so many.
Unreal City!
I gaze above you-
A dark star crashes
Pouring its light into ashes
As the heavens open up,
Raining down the slings and arrows
Of outrageous misfortune
Upon the drenched crowd. 
Unreal City!
Unreal City,
It was your work that darkened these clear eyes-
Your father’s eyes,
As you once knew them, 
Though he never
Saw, nor knew what he did.

“Come now, it’s really not so bad. You 
know people are bound to go through these things,
he just wasn’t the one. Come now, I’ll take you
out shopping, you’ll forget about him. You’ve much to
live for.�

II.****A Game of Love

She looked lovely with
Those pearls that were his eyes
Around her neck, touching
The supple flesh just inches
Above those two perfect
Breasts, swelling like stormy seas
Over the lip of her crimson blouse,
As she took her seat across from me.
I smiled 
And she
Smiled back.
I fidgeted nervously with the
Menu, unsure of what to say,
As time stood painfully still
Under the unblinking crystal stare
Of florescent bulbs overhead.


Should I compare her to a summer’s day?
But how can one think of such things
Deep in the winter of their discontent? 
I needed her back; what to say?
What to say?

She spoke silver thread,
Unraveling into silken stream,
Sultry words slithering like snakes.
The voice of my beloved!
She is the rose of Sharon,
And the lily of the valleys.

Once I was beloved
And she was mine;
She who picked flowers,
Yellow flowers,
Before she lead me to the place
Of my heart’s crouching.

She stared back complacently as I paid the bill.
A thorn among lilies
So is her love among the daughters.
At the end of the night, 
As we stood basking 
In golden electric light.
She put her arms around me yes
And drew me down to her
So I could feel her breasts
All perfume yes
And my heart went mad yes.

He heard the latch unfasten.
The door was open a small crack,
With two squinting, suspicious eyes
Peering out of the darkness.
He pushed forward into the room,
The old woman staring at him, gawking in surprise-
“Good evening, Alyona Ivanovna.�

It was a small apartment on the fourth floor of the building
The floor was hardwood, made of oak
Inside were various objects of all sorts, mostly gold or silver.
There were also some pearls.
In the room a man and a woman were talking,
From the open window floated conversation of two painters
Working on the 6th floor.
 “But what has he tied it up like this for?�
And down came the axe,
The blood gushed as from an overturned glass.
In another few minutes the man would kill again,
************** And this would begin him on the path
************************************************************** To his salvation

III: Bobble-Head Buddha Makes a Speech

Bobble-Head Buddha wooble bobbles
On the dash board.
Wooble ooble obble.
Tip taping his head 
To the meter of his words.
His metered, measured words
Which pop plop out,
Exploding plosives,
In senseless syllables,
Conveying all that is the Universe.
The driver of that car does not listen to
The Bobble-Headed guru,
But he will speak anyway.
A pothole bump, whilst
Going down a grayblack 
Stretch of Long Island streetroad
Flanked up and down by the same houses,
And further down, by the same Targets
And Seven Elevens, marks his explanation
Of the Big Bad Bang.

Booble wobble, topple tipped
**************************Pothole jump sputter
**********Sentence twist words-
******************** Out of words
******And into being been bobbling boobaling
****************************And wobble topple 
******** In the gyrating gyre 
****************Of falcon wing’s bobble blurs-
**************************** The centre cannot hold!
******************ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE HERE
Of a timeless time.
Speak O muse of the wobbling wander-
Of death by water,
In the time when God’s ate men,
And lipsmacked around cracked bones
From atop ivory bone thrones,
Supported by the groans
And lamentations of the meager mortals.
Booble woooble topple tipped
Sounds of fury-
A tale told by an idiot, signifying nothing.

The cars engine purred on down the twisting streets,
Heading towards the city.
The driver, a discerning man of science
States blankly
I love the sound of children dying
As around him rise futurist wet dreams 
Embodied in pillars
Of steel
And stone.
The one’s who killed Jesus built this city;
(Unreal City!)
They pierced his limbs with nails, 
and later his stomach with a spear,
and he looked up from the cross
and he spoke unto them shouts of:
************Help!
************I’m hemorrhaging cranberry juice!
and so they bandaged him with rags- dirty oil rags,
and kept him alive by pumping his veins full of sweat
and oil.

(I think you stuck my friend with knives,
****************one in his heart
**********and three in each side.
******************************************************Knives! Knives!)

Gott ist tot! Gott ist tot!
Long live God!

**********IV. Death by Water

Tell us of the storm tossed man,
Who wandered the sea
For 10 years lost.
Tell us of Phlebas the Phonecian,
Of who’s eyes we made a necklace
With which to strangle
Ourselves.
Tell us of Jack Sparrow, pirate hero
Who tamed the God of the Sea
Black Calypso, 
All the while in search of good spirits.
Yes tell us, 
tell us, 
of Death by Water.

******************** Gentile or Jew
O you who set sail and embark upon the seas of life
Consider Phlebas the Phonecian, who was slain by you.
************** (we put one in his heart and three in each side)

V. What the Lightening Heard

Let us go you and I
When our evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient nitrousized on a table.
Let us bask in the twilight of the idols.
We will walk the city streets
Stared down by windows
Whose glazed eyes
Gleam brightly back at us
Twinkling in the electric starlight
A man will walk by us
Howling cries of love and music
Pining away for a woman of the sun
We will turn the corner and see a man
Step out of an old wooden building
Muttering Russian insanities
Two murders sinking maddeningly over his mind
And over there in the golden light
Too young lovers in passion yes
And we will walk amongst stone walls
Over cracked sputtering rock
Through an electric land
Charged and sparking
Stuttering prayers to the moon overhead
A chrome box standing on the side lifeless
Deathless
And if it had life
It would wheel around
Like R2D2 and bleep beep kindnesses to us
But it will not wheel around
The steel will not die

Flickering fire light on sobbing faces
Sand blowing in their eyes
Rising from the desert with the howling wind's
Howling songs to the deathless night

If there were water,
And no rock-
If there were rock,
And also water,
We would dance at the graveyard 
In the night;
Slipping slipshod in the bourbon rain,
That was called by a cock's crow,
Listening to the electric howl of the rock
Screaming Dionysian chants.
We would dance.
The steel walls would come crumbling down,
And the King would be carried off into the stars
(The Jester having long since stolen his thorny crown)
By a glowing green disk
Flittering across the sky.
We would dance,
And the dead would be grateful.

What banshee wail is that?
What siren’s call?
Rising towers
New York San Francisco Beijing
Tokyo Toronto New Deli
Real! (unreal city!) 
********************************Unreal city

A rat scuttered through the cracks and around
A clump of crinkled newspaper,
Stopping to sniff at a red paper McDonalds
Cup- With a roar 
came flying down upon the rat
A screeching silver snake of cold chrome.
On its nose there blazed a blue circle with an
A imprinted in the middle of it.
“This is a Queens Bound…. A train…. next stop… Fulton.�

“I’d fuck Adolf Hitler, he wasn’t bad looking. He had
that cute little mustache. I bet those little bristles
would feel good twitching over my clit.�
But alas nothing would surprise us any more.

****** kike shit cream piss city urban death fuck//---
NIEN!

Behold the King of Men!
Ecce Homo! 
A tale told by an idiot signifying nothing!
A whirling phantasm of words and
Dialectical thesis anti-thesis
Sin thesis at the lick her store
Good for the hole-
A theist thesis, my, my, we haven’t seen one of those in decades
Not since the blue eyed devil came around on
Fight night- Friday night lights
Dionysius VS. the Crucified**********and 
thus spoke Zoro, asked her,
“and what of the Spaniards?�-
as he cut a Z into his opponent's flesh
(he stuck him with knives, one in the heart and three in each side)
Hope is there hope
Hope still to hope
Hope to heap up upon hope
Pity pity pity pity ty- ty- ty- pity pity- pity ty –ty –ty ty tee te tee tee tea te tea
Pity Count Andreovich!
Teee – ti- ti ty –ty tee tea te
**************** Liberty,****** Equality,******** Brotherhood
Ecrasez l’infame!
And so, stuck in time looping over loops and looping over loops and
Looping over loops
The patriarch of Macondo descended into madness,
Pacing past the room
Were La Maga’s first born was to die.
I could find better uses for the trillions played annually than war-
(Gott ist tot!) I am prepared to rule the world-
Gott ist tot! Kunst ist tot!
**************** Shantih****shantih****shantih