Brainchild

Love is the purpose
war is the means
bring forth the Brainchild
complete the spell
with Blood O’Life
and the Sphere of Resurrection
in the Halls of Continuity
so that the invention
can be exalted with fire
water, air, and other toxins
this fire of dark, light and gravity
this Flare of Ultima-tum
bring me back to life
bring me back to life
as I cannot stop desiring to live
in this peace-ful place
we call the Farplane.

Love is the purpose
war is the means
if I cannot stop death
I shall join it
gene by gene
thread by thread
I shall imbue myself with thy scythe
as the Lord of the Lake presents his naked sword
love is the purpose
always shall be
in this pumpous carnival of fellatio
to bring me back to life
always bring me back to life.

Advent

One in a million obertures
ye are free to despise
in this mad world
if Advent is the name of yer savior
force me to swear that I saw him outside
killing runaway bunnies and stray dogs
plush your pretty penny in our oasis
blur the sight of such majesty
and point thy sacred arrow to the sky
so I can purify God’s thoughts
of this mad world
prepare thy obertures
for the magma
latent Advent of our sky
bring us Salvation and Scatterheart
our beloved (s)words
with pointy shadows
of magical rev(f)erence.
There is a supersonic sun in my mouth
as I swim into thy Womb of Oblivion
swimming in this mad world
like the advent-herald-harbinger
of delightful delirium
bring us the Anchor Song and the Flower of Carnage
to kill this crazy man inside
of many gods in this mad world
mental, mental, mental
one in a million obertures of Advent
wouldnnae cure a germ of the brain
not even with pretty penny from Porn Los Angeles
if ye know my thoughts and thus, what I mean
for ye are the Verb, as much as I be
a mere period, comma, or a simple parenthesis
please, undo this theater sin in unison
for there shall be our will
to remap thy mind
and reprogram thy thoughts
as much as I want to reset mine
in sweet Nirvana-strawberry-fields-forever.

Irie

Give me your blue sphere
power of planetary
to shape the demiurge of God
in irie butterflies
25 going on 30.

Forget the planets
and alignments of stars
to finally locate Shamballa
just cast your spell
and give me your power
to be free of thy infernal majesty.

Rose of thirteen petals
lotus green of formidable smell
I remember it well
‘ twas the 17th of the current month
in another time, another plane
flying from PR to CT, then driving to MA
if you try my jet lag
you shall be spared my patience.

The spell is woven
it says your name and mine
intertwined in magical forgery
so that you love me forever
without mourning my departure
to the Kingdom of Many Hearts and Lotuses
until you cannot eat
or sleep
sweet sorcery
to lead an irie life afterlife.

Balladeer

Go against the teachings
spare time for piercings
in undead places
look for Reaper Hill
and sing along the balladeer
of ending the world together
with Carthage, Sodom and Alexandria
with merchants going around in ancient Venice
while I drop some drops of saliva
bearing you in my soul
changing the panorama
with the visage of you inside my womb
male womb
praying that you come out alive
in Carnivàles of witchy-bitchy dark souls
sing along the balladeer
of white slik floating down from Bone Heaven
to feather you with a new life
not in Reaper Hill, but in the Silent One
let devils cry and harpies wail of woe
as my own persona Orpheus
cuts his own head to live forever
in the lays of us, ballading our history
together.
Forever together.

Blitz

Forgive the bombardment of 1940
if you can suppres your feelings of anger
towards the genocide
and those who call it Holobullshit
believe in your blue star of six points
and male long beards
and those who can actually carry out a tune.

False hope tell us
the syndrome won’t reappear ever again
but should I fail
in my quest to become god
please don’t let it all go forgotten
for forgiveness is nothing
without the memoires of the dark.

Dust Devil

San Juan, let them know your fury
show them your rabbies in between teeth
as children scared cry for their lost mothers
in the shopping mall
shopping mall singing Tom Green
San Juan, show them your journalists
and their yellow
like yellow face in Sin City
show them that you too can close down the government
for even more time than Minnesota when Ventura stepped down
show them that the wind here can produce sandstorms
Show them San Juan
that you can also get your own killed
at the back of steak restaurants
at a not so chilly night
show them San Juan
that you are a terror sublime
to be reckoned with at nights of eternal graveyard –shifts-
show them, San Juan
that your people sleep even when they seem to be
in the eternal wake of Oller’s painting
show them your people are submitted to the core
that you can whip them with 4%, 5% and 7% and they won’t protest
of course, with the exception of sindicate leaders
in prey of their own interests, like the rest of you, San Juan
dust devil of winds drown to the ground
wish you could be grounded
for a week,
for a month
forever.

Unsent

For light you ears shall see
remnants of a star
like remnants of Grandma
that you can only see
in theory.

This light is time
as it stands by
purple cherry blossom tree
samurai sword in hand
very Japanese.

Light is your only being
as I tell you
that you have been dead for quite a bit
beyond the fields of Granada
as they show you
how nothing physical remains of a star
nothing like just the light.

I will not send you off
a summoner of
the light and sound the bear you name
-for you, my dear, are
chimes made marrow,
blood of my music
the smiling lips of my poetry.
You shall remain with me.