Procession of the Paradoxes.

Diary of a Dog Fiend.

Spiraling down, a bird of prey, through Aeons and fizzing stars.
Diaphanous but barely conscious, the monster of His-story reawakens.
It’s 1967, i sip mint tea and smoke hashish with tattooed Berber women.
I stalk the surface of the Moon, 1918, a village in Flanders, barbed wire and artillery shells…
I’m convulsing with time, centuries splutter out of me like the insults of a Tourettian…
“Deutschland Erwachen!”, there’s a fire in the baker’s shop!
A gigantic ship hovers above the obelisk, The Lightening Struck Tower…
Where are thee my love? I’ve been waiting for thousands of years!

Expansion and contraction, chorus & verse, breathing underwater…
“Revolutions eat their own children”…
The trouble maker comes to a sticky end!
Chained to a rock in the Lotus Pool, caught my his own
Mendacity.
Oh! The dark sister has come, she’s still beautiful!
Eye embrace her and we tumble and a great roaring…

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