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The Flight to Rana

Take me back to rana
In the land of Amber
Milky opal
Where the rivers flow upstream
The trees grow upside down
The rain falls skyward
The sky a lake
Clouds romp the earth.
Where women have two wombs
Four breasts
And men have eyes at the back of their heads,
And four legs like mighty stallions
And all order is reversed
Into the perverse perfection of perfect chaos
Rimbaud’s dereglement des sens
Virtue ravaged into willing sin
Black is gold.

Give me lotus
Give me wine
And then some more
But above all
Give me bread
Give me soul.

Let me forget all histories
All thoughts of death
Obliterate monuments
Pagan temples, churches, mosques
And great dictators
Upon this rock ….

Let me reach that state of bliss
Where time’s oblivion
Trapped in a bottomless black hole
Hurled in a spiral spin
The sun gone cold
The moon is tinsel
Silver crowning a Mogul miniature
Life simulating art.

The philosopher Plata
Unzipping women
And the flies of men
Dancing with one veil
Like Salome the cat
Robbed of her other six lives,
Sits for the last symposium
In the deliberate absence of Socrates,
Pontificates on things to come
Manipulates the time machine
And the limbs of ripe Greek youths
In anticipation of the Second coming

Now its here
And obviously there is something very rotten
In the state of Denmark.

Mumbo Jumbo,
White elephant
Nimble mimble
Short as a thimble
Sporting the order of the Swastika
Stamped all over his tired back
Like postage stamps on a battered suitcase
Sits inside his castle of straw
Aborted the world in the month of May
That cruel month of bloodied rain
That loveless Maypole
Up the world’s ass.

The world is now twelve years old
Full of pretended wisdom
Toothless, lacking sparkle like a flat tasteless beer
A giggling schoolgirl
Croaking empty slogans
In an empty stadium.

The emperor PompaBell
Built ramparts of anthills
Castles of sand
Destroyed evidence of all history
And the toil of men
Stamped his name on every imaginary brick.

The great black hound
Lord of the underworld
The king of creeping worms
His bite equally potent as his bark
Is barren, barren
Empty as a grand balloon.

Fear creates confusion.

Don’t you hear the chimes of doom
In the glare of day?
The blare of tin drums,
The fanfare?
The stench of the swamp?
The stink shouts
With a clash of cymbals

The wind whistles through the reeds
Travelling to the destination of the empty box
Entrapped forever
Fossilized into a scream
The solid geometry
Of stark eternal horror.

Tiger, tiger
Or striped in elixir, musk and myrrh
Your eye is a mirror
Looking inward
The world is split in two
Two slit blind eyes
Loci upon a plane of crazed crystal…
Let me delve into your eye
The mirror is a clear lake
Looking inward
Together, each to each
Thigh upon warm thigh
We shall soar
All pores
Glistening pearls of sheer delight
Sprouting golden feathers as we fly
To the green fresh grasses of the sky.