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Idee Fixe
don't even think about it
a bucket of motel ice in the face
proving the thing in itself does not exist
because he registered all the meanings all the time
with a nausea so profound
the retching never ended
rearranging all my proteins
in a hypnotic anarexo-bulemic frenzy
I marched to the beat of crawling flesh
an x-rated dermatologist tattooed Celtic blue
in an idiot ritual purification
couldn't find a long-haired dog for winter
settled for an inferno of intrigue and dissipation
in a tin shack at the edge of an endless swamp
it wasn't serenity that's a rock solid fact
the horse hairs stung across his butt
Mistress Cheetah grabbed the microphone
she had saved him from pointlessness in the past
weaving many paths upon his terrain
in a fairy tale about fairy tales
fear swept the land as a craving for snacks
the ones who get no peace rose in rebellion
ridden by that cancer of abuse
the great canon that we are but animals
the Brahmins and their bullies faced extinction
so they cut a deal to escape the cro magnon hordes
coldly calculating the cost to nations
in a curious mix of apoplexy and daring
trying to duplicate the distortions of time
a grandiose epic on the nature of Nature
and the desert of human intellect
clanked and hummed into bloom
an infectious enthusiasm swept the palisades
curing the sick and raising the dead
bypassing the humiliation of needing to lie
now if that doesn't please your ghost
here's something that will
I'll give you the formula now
in a dance of erupting minutae
if the West is decadently feudal
the East is feudaly decadent
this is my message to Earth
multiply yourself by yourself
and avoid counterfeit soothsayers
like you avoid a broken pin ball flipper
in a sea of hard financial assets
some of the angels are stuffed dolls
and confabulate without knowing it
where everyone is a game piece
tell me what is not measured
like wild geese honking through the night
part of a vast migration of souls
with the moon low and full
in a time of riches and knowing
in a teasing ****** of ignorance
in a power surge that spiked through the wires
the closer to the pillar you stood
the more transparent it all became
end of transmission
Copyright ©
Walter Alter
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