Posts Tagged ‘spirits’

He hears
He hears
Voices in his head
In his head
Voices from inside
Voices from his mental address
Not like the voices from outside
Pleading voices
Begging voices
Commanding voices deciding choices
Voices in his head
Map out his road through life
Forbid actions
Permit actions
Voices in his head
In his head
To tell him what to do
If he ever wondered what to do
Might be the spirits of dead ancestors
Or passing demons sweeping out of desert places
In his head
In his head
He hears voices in his head
Like a mystical mental radio
Like a repeating verbal collage
He hears voices in his head

Twist a string of beads
Around a witch’s waist
Build a crappy tent of bulbous bones
Against the rabid rain

Which pelts poison in your brain
And soon drives you electrically insane
Nerve toxins in the neurons
Birthing paralytic rictus
And quasi simian spasticity

Beat a rubber eel upon a warlock’s wobbly bits
Signify a morbid mountain of madness
Spit upon the surfaces of suppurating melancholy
Dance into the crack within the nothing
Like a stoned fool on smack
They’ll never want you back
Until all is black as boots and empty

Taste a poxy potion of hallucinatory mushrooms
See Christ crucified with the head of a Beast
See the many horns and eyes of the beast
See the real Christ crucified in pulsating pain
See the wood of the cross multiplying across Europe
See the Shroud of Tourin photocopying a saviour
See Christ crucified on every tree
And every tree a Bible
See towering cathedrals of light hidden from mortal retinas
Fractal kaleidoscopic sun structures of infinite intricacy
Bedazzling and befuddling desperately then
Faces without eyes emerge from the void
Like fungus growing from a corpse

Flashes of spark-light phosphorescence against the windows of the skull
Mad carousing reptiles wrap their bodies around a totem pole
Wood hacked to grinning skulls piled to heaven vertical
Fire flickers and the children of light dance their circle
Drums beat a rumbling rhythm that hypnotizes
Summoning old Spirits to bring in a new age

I am the purple crustacean of electric visions and doom-time scenarios.
I encompass all things from the void to the myriad blown—out stars.
Around me flow bubbles and curlicues of psycho-thoughts and the voices of the dead.
The dead whisper heresies in my crustacean ears and I hear every one.
I live in a bucket of custard at the bottom of the sea with sea urchins in my hair.
Many strange events will be possible beneath my claws as I grasp the meaning of my existence.
For I will not murder the days or count them out like cough drops.
Each instant is precious and characterized by golden glow and fuzzy hair-clotted memories.

My carapace shelters the damned until they are released from their torment.
I watch left and right as my eyes pivot on stalks and I see them dance the dance of a thousand deaths.
All bow before me as I channel the impulses of a million brains through my tentacles, electrical mind thoughts from the satellite god of conspiracy to me and back again.
What wonders I have dominion over at the bottom of the sea!
Water ballet down rivulets of sea weed wig forms and brave moments of mollusc riding mayhem,
I talk to the fish and the fish talk to me, we ride with the great white sharks enthralled with their teeth and grace and feed on the carrion of infinite nowhere
And I astral travel to every point in the universe instantly.