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~Landscape of Our Heavenly Lacerations~
Meditating on the Illustrious Stardust of this Galaxy's Mysteries.
Either awash in the Stars, or Beneath the Haunting Depths of this Infinite Merciless Sea Vortex.
~A Tribute to Andre Breton~
Canto 1
Creative imagination, freeing the eccentric nature, drive-bashing poisons, brazen thresholds, thrashing tapestries, sensuous
mugginess and embracing the freshly torturous. Viewing this never-ending procession of beautiful women, like some grief-stricken-peasant.
Relaxing through any storm, undergoing transitional hardship and the supernatural exists for those who believe in it. And
with my spinning meat hooks, I'm weaving and casting a world of torment in their direction. I will hurt them, until they Weep
and Bleed and Hemorrhage an Ocean. I want to pour a carafe of stinging blush upon their Exposed and Steaming Vital Organs.
Canto 2
As I walk underground to catch the subway, I Revel in the Stench of Exhaust and Urine. I work so hard and yet, I am penniless.
How can I enjoy this Dance of Life? How can I? When I'm surrounded by the Violence of No Money? I feel like a coyote with
its' throat slashed, begging for forgiveness on the desert floor. How sad it is to see a man being crucified upside-down in
front of a plate of food.
Canto 3
Fermented bile, applying chemical gravy to armpits, unloosing recalcitrant feelings and on the Internet, viewing the aftermath
of a downtrodden fellow, who Disengaged his Cranial Vault. Making broth out of human eyelids. Damage control is apologizing
exquisitely. Glass Ceilings Harness the Sun. Unknowingly, Standing on the Almighty Trapdoor. Dense nutrition was discovered
on the inside of a bagel. My pet rat asks very little of me. In America, our needs are many and so, our torment is infinite.
I enjoy watching the Discovery Channel. I enjoy watching animals tearing-into one another, because it helps me to understand
the Free Enterprise System and the need to achieve great things. The cartridge of a human being, touched by God's compassion,
powdered in nurturing innocence, complex and pure, because of the Denial of Cosmetic Fortune. Visualize the Elder Citizen
Kane in his Kinetic Frenzy, dismantling his wife's tiny bedroom, like some heart-wrinkled-grizzly. A Shaman's Dance of Breaking
Glass. We say that female voices send us gliding sideways into Heaven, while transcending any form of motion sickness. How
could we make this any easier? Answer: by landing on the other side of this Bedroom's Galaxy.
Canto 4
I enjoy watching Heavyweight Boxing. It's therapeutic-voyeuristic-violence. Our contestants are Bludgeoning Each other
Way beyond Any Form of Recognition. The Aesthetics of a Slow Death. Of watching Titans gradually, punching one other into
another dimension. Whisking the human brain into scrambled eggs. Serves me right for wandering-aimlessly-congested, surrounded
by sludge water and no swimming hole. Sunbeams breaking through church windows make me cry. Depression is a vicious battle,
we treason ourselves, breeding-internal-carrion, one of several-crucial-changes. An offensive display of mindless-facial-expressions,
perfectly-timed by self-exploiting people craving riches. I Envision the Walls of a Melting Infrastructure and I behold Elegant
Cars Racing Towards a Hallucination. Avoid, disregard, Arms Reaching-out Intertwined, Reluctantly Grasping at Symbolic Ghost
Towns. Tumble dry, within the Zen of Rodents and Art Studios. Appreciate what you have before you lose it, before the sky
swallows it up. Tears from A Tender Face Absorb the Exhaust of a Passing Train.
Canto 5
Heaven is the Anesthesia, which Alcoholics Crave. Existing within a peaceful mindset, within a stark and minimalist apartment.
My life is so racked with pressure and time-consuming-dragons, that my insides must look like a carnival; like a Labyrinth
of Barbed Endorphins.
Canto 6
In the Mountains of Colorado, young, Air Force Cadets are forced to run wind sprints beneath a merciless sun. Water is
sucked-out of their bodies and kidneys fail. In Santa Monica, money is harvested by men with paralyzed legs in glass-covered-alleys.
Sacrifice and endurance, don't relinquish your momentum, if you're fortunate enough to have some. Emotions find their way
out of a room and a hallway is filled with angry circles. Hardships proceeded by a handful of great moments. Look for the
small victories in life. Eventually, everyone's backyard will become a Collective of Plasterboard and Soiled Carpet.
Canto 7
Feeling as though I was a mother pig, with eight bleeding nipples. Without some quality rest, we will incur damage to
these shells. Strayed from my diet by an accursedly charming woman. I, the once Violent Vegetarian, I have been seduced. And
yet, considering that we are all carnivores, my guilt is minimal. Entangled within the Majesty of Its' Infinite Fabric, Three
Months of Post-marked Venom, the Living Metaphor of a Candlelight Dinner. And at every turn, sabotaging her existence. It's
like shanking a kick, you have to ask yourself, "How could she have missed that?!"
Canto 8
Let's all go to a rock concert and have our Auditory Canals Reduced to Crushed Pineapple. Meanwhile, hungry primates are
seen huddled around a steaming bucket. Hard Rock harmonizes with the Crackling of Crab Skeletons. Crab Meat mashed-against
Smiling Lips and imported beer is served. The women here are beautiful. They have melancholic demeanor and raccoon eyes. Their
world is made out of Crystal Jasmine; it is a fragile existence. And as they hold your hands, you shall be released from your
earth shackles. An unhealthy relationship is a like a Collision Course with Reality. It's like an invasive surgery, with each
moment, carving-out a little more life. Invest your time into the sweet-cinnamon-magic of watching the world getting splashed
like a crane fly against a concrete wall. I am going to enter into their world with a flamethrower, courtesy of Francois Bacon.
Canto 9
The Extinguishing of the Infrared Safety Curtain. Yellow Plastic Sheets of Beef Bullion. Backgammon chips clicking on
top of lazy eyelids. The Cerebral Cortex of the Incendiary Luscious Waterfall. Oceans waves of love crashing upon your mashed-brain-mush.
Coffee electrifying heart muscles. A twitching central nervous system. A Horrifically, Unauthorized Stimulation of the Spinal
Chord. At this point, a cracked-cervical-spine would be a welcomed transition.
Canto 10
Rewind is fast forward in an upside down world. A Brown Field occupied by a Pack of Lying Whores. Visually lost, within
its’ infinite-urban-sprawl. My heart is quickly beating, diseased weakened, plugged with cholesterol, a clump of
frightened meat, Offset and Thrashing Against an Unsuspecting Ribcage. This has been a Major Source of My Grief and Weeping.
A delay within the energy transmissions between the cells is the Recipe for Synthetic Nirvana. The Endless Landscape of Our
Heavenly Lacerations. Butcher-block-skies and amber-satin-kneecaps. Alligator Crowns and Broccoli Downers. Eat a snail in
a hailstorm and go to Hell. As the Blood Red Eagle belches, sulfur rises from her as if it were a Steaming Veil of Bread Yeast.
The Receptacle of My Grandiose-vile-contribution. The Great Vault of the Unknown Child and of the Knowing Loin. And yet, who's
daddy? The Milkman, or could it be the Conductor of this City's Philharmonic Orchestra? Solace Was Achieved By Interfacing
with Humpty Dumpty. Somewhere, inside all this uncertainty is the solution to all of our Myopic Evil Foundations.
Canto 11
A Glacier's Perspective with Egg Nests and Luscious Breasts. Lobster-quilt-mash-tail-of-corn-leaf. A Composition of Primary
Glass Encasements of Torches and Shrub Brushes. Police officers handcuff and interrogate thugs who sell cocaine, avocados
and celery sticks. The Standard All-American Nice Guy Embarked on His Second and Final Metabolic Shift. Performing Cartwheels
down a Long Stairwell in Miami, just beyond Martini Heaven and Gin Hell. Ethnic Races which resemble the Beauty of White Feathers.
Soup is a Spiritual.
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