hallucna-torry fragment of 'work in progress'...

Remember, remember… life as a cubist still life ‘asshole wif pipe n’newspaper’… fragments, little bits o’dreams bleedin’ through. The glow of barely remembered roads to Damascus. The new Aeon, the boy with the blister on his wrist. Little vignettes, you and me, me and them, him, you, them, us and you again. I am just energy, I am just a series of chemical events. I become diaphanous, radiant, third eye open, seeing but not looking, being but not behaving. Trying but not suck-seeding. Cast adrift on the farthest shore. Washed up, dried out, hung out, strung over, loose/tight, fast/slow. Every heartbeat infinitely slow till I become the day before creation. Gimme some money, gimme some love, gimme shelter. Lord Baphomet of forests and silence, Lord Pan of music and sex and death in extreme forms. Geometry, the golden mean, fractals like D.N.A revealed on D.M.T. A blind and careless god spreading consciousness as a cruel joke. A beneficent god creating consciousness as a shaving mirror… Ganesh, Thoth, Isis, Hathor, who are thee and why dost thou come? Thy will be done in birth as it is in deathin’… come now holy ghost dance apocalypse of the 5th dimension. Come now, calling all tsars. Holy Jolene, Holy Jill, Holy Ben, Holy Tym, Holy Fran, Holy Bro… every song I ever loved, every girl I ever liked, every book I ever read, all here, present and correct. Stripey tops, tarot cards, the immaculate ever present now, yesterday, today, tomorrow. Nothing is separate, no wo/man is alone. Illusion, delusion, knowing and really not knowing anything. A strange light descends on back gardens and tennement flats and council blocks. The intelligence of the rhizome, the cunning of evolution. The divine name, cabbalism, divination, synchronicity in the form of numbers, geese, animal bones. Thee I call, thee I adore…