STATICA or A Song of Man

2008-05-25T02:58:00.000-07:00

I.
I have measured the width and breadth of Limbo

I have fallen

I have landed bottom dead center

Some days I wish I had never left the land of Mitzraim

Sometimes I wish I had died from the trauma of the fall

But upon deeper reflection

All I would have changed

Was my initial trajectory

From the head to the heart

II.
Those of you out there with no sense of tragedy

Ask indignantly,"Why does the condemned man sigh?"

This you ask because you have no fear of G_d on High-

You! who would spit in a dead man's face

You! who have made a covenant with Death...

But there is a Grave deeper than theirs'

Beneath your beloved lake of fire

There your understanding will be perfected

You who invoke the names of Life and Virtue

But have no sense of Tragedy

III.
"SAINT STATICUS, PATRON OF LATE NITE TALK RADIO-

PRAY FOR US SINNERS!"

"SAINT STSTICUS, PATRON OF THE DEAD LETTER OFFICE-

PRAY FOR US SINNERS!"

"SAINT STATICUS, PATRON OF THE FADED PHOTOGRAPH-

PRAY FOR US SINNERS!"

"SAIN STATICUS, PATRON OF THE LIVING CLICHE-

PRAY FOR US SINNERS!!!"

This whole thing is ready to go off,

Shut down, boil over

B! R! E! A! K!

Not even Limbo lasts forever

And even the Grave gets buried

Hear the Song of all Slaves of all Ages;

The Annihilation Hymn of all earths Exiles

And all bodies buried alive!

NONPLUS

Not even white noise on the radio

INDIVISIBLE

Not relative to anything at all

All your hope for becoming redundant is doomed

And not even G_d works on this Sabbath

IV.
[I am a man of flesh in the Land of Skeletons

I am a flightless bird in the Nation of Cages]

The New Ziggurat rises from the tel of the Old

MYSTERY BABYLON:

I know the nature of the names etched in the Beast's scarlet flesh

And I know with what you mix your wine

But what vexes me to madness

Is how your Merchants managed to turn mens' souls into a cargo

What vile magic, What corrupting calculus is this!?

O, Pax Romana,

[Americana]

My name is Elihu

Of the Sicarii of Alexandria;

A petty assassin in my youth-

I cast my lot in with the Exiles,

And all Defenders of Fallow Ground...

V.
It's a wicked generation that demands a sign

[the corpses clog the well, the water turns to wine]

Purified - the brimming Cup of Wrath

Forever broken the Harlot's mighty Cask

VI.
The old dichotomies have worn theselves to stasis

Frustrated by their own weight

And the encumbrance of Flesh

Hope floats,

Like a body by the bank

Held by an eddy-

This is the Great Synthesis

Hope floats-

And the Prophets pray for Drought

The Rising Tide Raises all Ships-

And the Prophets pray the Sky to stillness

Leviathan writhes beneath the Firmament-

And the Prophets pray from within the Great Fish.

Praise be to the One

Behind

Beneath

And In between

Everything

Idiot Ballet

2008-05-25T02:50:00.000-07:00

Dial adjusted to high shadow frequency:
Words in cipher
Reveal a world without colour
Faceless Rule amputates
With hermetic, surgical, pristine teeth
Past skin and ligaments and marrow;
Past atoms and light and forms
Through the soul's appendages
Mouth babbles and blasphemes G_d on High
From a Darkness churned by writhing Angels
Clumsy block-tongue obstructs oxygen from the mind
Issues serialized directives,
Orders G_d's image, Man's Tide
In a mighty Idiot Ballet-
Much too long to sit through
G_d is not mocked
Cowards stampede, panic and falter
In the twilight of Lawless Order
All the way into the nighttime-
Of Little Horn

Death to Leviathan

STATICA or A Song of Man

Idiot Ballet