queen of the lost ice planetesimals ! her hand commands …

solar systems error and fault in planned, orchestrated failure –

despot bitch with eyes as Titan and Ganymede

chortling impishly across time and space her supernova sounds  !

 it is likely, that the person staring out the window, sees less, than the person staring into the mirror

THE PILLAR SAINT

  statuesque pillar-saint woebegone
  in perpetual management of proprioception
  lost in a gloaming darkly psychedelic,
  vortexing all around, menace-clouds...

  a vesper without hope
  for a night without morning

  humming lullabies of endless twilight
  susurring all around !
  a stature demure !
  yet such beguiled, stupid flesh !

 Metanoia-wounds cascading
 phosphor-rain and ash of stone
 upon the tremored bodies
 supine on the wettened grass below...

   parched to death athirst
   are the witnesses to this very witness of God
   communing beneath the pillar
 
   the mysterious contemplation
   and the ever-adoration  
   of boundless human excellence
   up there on the platform  

       the golden blood of the saint !

       running downward pylons
       dripping from the gargoyle beaks
 
       downward cascading across
       the cracked mosaic of existence

   vines of vermillion veins
   fractally forming around them,
   contorting all around them,
   rooting themselves all around

     growing about them weblike,
     spinal-cordially
     like intelligence-antenna
     towards a starry sky
     as to re-connect
     with something greater…

zartosht

and not yet may he become the fire of Ahura Mazda because he has not yet enough oxygen to nurture its flame in eternity…

weary and destitute, Zartosht grabbed his wandering staff and consulted the star-sky and some air-spirits for a direction towards the silence of days ― then, during the first hours of the night, he abandoned the townsfolk and the Holy flame extirpated unattendedly the morning after

   it would have been very embarrassing―had they cared…
   no one cared ! no one could be bothered…

everyone slept in that morning because it had been a festive night before it, and it was the very same night the prophet left

the townsfolk soiled themselves with their spiritual child-play…they mismanaged and malnourished the Holy Flame and they confessed to their feasting upon every single one of Ahriman's execrable excesses !

the one about drugz

the abuse of drugs !  

an everlasting dance with devil and folly ?

   men have been architects of altered consciousness
   since men barely existed

   and, before the age of industrialization,
   a problem barely existed, but now so does 

            * * *

in the rugged badlands above Persian Empire the Sun  
and Ottoman Empire the Moon, where Scythes
and Huns and Sarmates once reigned, there are still
half-steed-half-man tribes boiling dry leaves of cannabis
and other steppe-herbs with an iron bowl in an enclosure,  
and the smoke rises from the bowl and hexes the congregants
into a warm, deep, lulling drone of cannabine stupor

   psychedelic vortices gloaming all around them !

   psychotomimetic gyrations turn into spiral warps
   penetrating even a thickness as the human mind

my pipe of hashish rests on my night-stand beside me…
seductress-demons of my Danteesque visions and worlds !

     take me home ! –
     i lay down my weapons again !

                 where is
                 my damn pipe ! ! !  

 vaporizers of dangerous Amanita life-forms
 in proto-medieval Upplandic pastures and Shamanic woodlands !

 chewers of the Kat in the slums of Mogadishu !  
 devoted followers of Great Toad God Bufo !
 and devotional congregants of the Ya Ba eucharist
 in the slums of Bangkok !

    Parisian starry absinthe nights !
    the warm opium fever, the red wine revelations
    and exotic leaves of cannabis and tobacco…
    Finnish vodka in a sauna and brännvin on midsummer’s eve !
    Moroccan desert dunes, the foothills of the Atlas  
    and eternal Afghan plains of wild ganja…

    Guangzhou dens of tobacco and opium
    and Sonoran drylands of all cacti and toads…

    Gabonese iboga lands of shrub and lichen
    and by Andean foothills, the verdure coca groves abound...

        like vultures are we all upon these treasuries...
        insectile, clustering, swarming !
        our hands breaching, clawing
        upon the gates of artificial paradise

     there are many venoms, ills, spites and curses
     weaponized by the lizard of addiction

  i ponder whether i should stop this doped folly once and for all,
  as i lose myself again in dazing fumes of nitrous oxide
  in a proud Jamesian tradition !
   
   stinky caravans of destitute Hashish-flamers
   disappear above the curvature of the earth

    i once belonged to them ! and vomit gropes my bellum…

     i now hurl curses and spites against
     the inebriated mass which moves all around me,
     but of which i am undeniably myself a part !

   all the lusts and the sins and the vices !

   ten-thousand shames, regrets and hatreds,
   pains and torments and anguished despairs –
   the fungi from which the parasite ever feeds !

          it goes never hungry !
   the allurements of the imps of Satan
   coaxing the sorry human soul into the darkness !

   accursed truants of life itself they become,
   swallowed by the needle ocean, deep and cold…