Before birth
I was dead
and I lived in this world of death
dreaming of the very life of the other dead people who existed there.
How not to die then?
For this I was born unexpectedly
from death into life!.
*
I sail in a city that sails
through the skies
I left behind every landscape and every other city
and was opened to the space oceans
Freed from prejudice and dogma
*
Time hurled cities at me
which dropped
on my
back
seas of buildings arrived
vacant and miserable
I ended up driving a Hotel
down a sidereal highway
- where the men were going
I knew not
nor nobody
in the nothing
spasmodic solitude
*
The buildings are walking over the clouds
they swim
in the sea of the sadness of being
- the forgetting of birth and dying
*
I see diamond trees
bathed in a drizzle of light.
- chlorophyll helps the evanescence of my dream
- of another world,
O, ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.
*
Ah, sea of stars!
The future love will fish for libidinous
stars
that make it rain
in the curved universe of your mouth!.
But now, scared without you
to be in blessed heaven
Ah, sky draped in sadness!
But what happens
it comes already,
death again
even though this time it will die
in the warm tide of your white breasts
and we will be infinite singing heavenly praise
in the unlimited space of our Love!.
*
I was born on a day when the skies were sailing beneath my feet. Someone was attaching them to the memory of a better time. And it was the birth too of the purple seas, which came and went through all feelings (without anyone but me feeling them)
*
The sea is not the sea, it is the sky:
stairways of frozen sea in space
there, where I am not I
and the world is now not the world-;
black starry amazement, b
e
l
o
w
Ah! The nothing
*
Fire rains in the
Mind
Storm:
God
has gone;
we are alone
now nothing calms us
everything makes us despair, so much, so much!
The sea is alight with rage,
and already black metal ravens are coming
To devour anxiety.
Battalions of demons are coming
infuriated skyscrapers
they whip the eyes of the last prophet,
the prophet of Despair:
he said one time: "Everything will die, even man."
And we can see what our fathers did not see:
The soul dying of Evil!
But Evil is the only thing that does not die
its eyes of earsplitting madness
make sparks leap from Burningland.
When they had to listen
nobody did
when they had to fight
nobody did
when they had to die
everyone died.
Now alone in the world
the antichrist of the rich
teaches his dreadful weapons.
Everything was consumed
while governments shouted "quiet, quiet!"
At the present moment, past of the future,
God should scream far far away, so that his shouts like astonishing arias reach no one.
The last prophet cried tears of dust,
Destroyer, tears of slow passing
What did he do and what did he stop doing to make the Underworld
kill the (now black) morning
*
The world's skyscrapers wander through the cosmos,
uninhibited and forgotten
we saw them raised
in the maddest urbanity
The infinite went with them
our loves
- that now have no faces -.
Now, the dreams of ancient human beings
are poured on the shoulders of the universe
what was this thing about 'humans'?
We tried to make ourselves eternal
and that was our ending:
connected to the machines of space-time
but not light;
ourr memory was wiped
from the mother computer.
and we erased ourselves because
we wanted to continue being,
what we were suffering,
what was killing us endlessly.
The eternal life of our minds
Goes beyond all disinformation
from the lost world
What for?
to end up losing ourselves
in this new galaxy, void.
*
(Dream of rock,
spirit of the dream
mate with the fossilised vegetation of our feeling.
Waken the soul in the rocks
in our lichens
engender
the not-death
of not-life
The landscape answers us
with the oscillations of the pendulum;
ah, blessings of becoming
Ah breast of change!
seeks my origin
beyond the disparate
mirror of the nothing
weeping of stones!
Sink my soul
in the calm night
of a super God the good-for nothing layabout of the ages
Demented genius of sin
sex of mountains and the deepest seas;
give us the burning clarity
of the lank faces of the angels;
let us see everything from
behind the spasm:
Eyes of the pubis
hands of the temples,
Squeezing the juicy fruit
(now wrinkled)
of the central heart of divinography.
Observe the beating of the natural
gesture and the catatonia of the healthy man
-both the same thing! -
"I" talk with buildings, language of gestures, attitudes of speech,
finally reunited,
so that the interplanetary cities will touch down,
on the tongue
(before, mortal,) not alive. So that men-trees bury the sky in so much accumulated sadness;
and between you and me the apparently silenced language of the flower
Spirit of the woods, incarnate yourself!
Nnnnnnnoisy men: sssshhh.sssshhhhh
hear how the natural elements talk
amongst themselves and tomynavel;grmmm, grmmm.;
get off your feet don't step on this life that saves me
(An Omphalos God saves me)
"when the buildings were extinguished
I was ready to be born,"
a fern with flowing green hair whispered to me.
(Is there anyone- listening- round here? Apart
from me-)
Let everything join together
and sing, sing
so loud that men shut up forever!
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