Beaming dark equinox slant of night owl mirage
Blinking crooked eyes & rectrix feathers of fear, plumed
To serpent moon narcosis.
Inside a rainbow ellipsis - a virus of colours
Each one punishing the spectral eye, or
The lair of the dragon’s brain-cave
Sleeping spectrum in the day’s forgotten grey.
A blast of zodiac charade
& we are falling stars, an imprint
Of cyberspace, our eyes infested
With the know-all Google still goggling the glass
Searching, like Star Trekkers for life beyond this life…
Only now - you’re
Caught in a picture of Zeuxis, smiling deception
Through shards of cataclysmic teeth – is it real?
This cyclotron of whirlpool energies
A smacked contamination of slashdot effect; JPEG downloads
Of magic realism distorted
Into plastic dolls with no limbs; a mannequin brain
Melting into solar cells of pirouette frowns; becoming
Lickspittle clowns dancing like marionettes of you & I
Carved with machete grins - should we die…
Now let me burn your hackneyed wooden limbs; Trojan-soft
To release an onslaught of nightmare children
Trapped in holocaust windows, bathed in nuclear veins
Their rapid beat of butterfly wings that know secret lungs
Coked in boiled blood tar, still smoking dirty wet cigarettes,
Warming in the soup of nuke juice
Coughing out the entropy of empty lives.
& so here we are,
The whole (wide) world blinded by pixels
Slipstreams of cyber light
All Polaroid moonquakes & sepia tsunamis. Still you’re
Throwing logic bombs, creating swamp pools & surreal lakes
That change from lagoon blue to lucid red
Watching dead whales crash in sea bed lament
Seeping spermaceti & blind candle decay
Burning forever in a child’s unforgiving eyes.
& all the time the sky is talking, talking
A fat blitz of recherché & cappuccino café windows
A recondite fright of sonar poetic sonatas
Watching Mozart eating Modernity in harpsichord hornswaggle
Belching out distasteful Surrealism and sniffing rose ecstasy
Of Rosicrucian Symbolism. For now I spray myself
In debauched perfume. I have sex in the poetry panic room.
My soul is lost in the cyber guts of a colon computer
Feeding me facile bytes of crackjaw verse
A cybercrime fallacy: all the world’s script kiddies
Hacking into the matrix corpse
Of a mad, bad and slightly dangerous Lord Byron
And eating his brains like Häagen-Dazs ice cream
With dirty spoons of Romanticism.
Wow, this left me breathless. It's so... almost gritty. I don't quite know how to put words to the feeling this invoked in me. Brava, my friend.
loved this then and still do...................
oh..haha...well spotted mrs. editorr!
wicked way this ended .. those closing lines were perfect .. you have an error in the third stanza .. 4 lines down .. sill should be 'still' .. thought i'd let ya know