Procession of the Paradoxes.

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 sound
issues from the axe split sky…

There is no struggle we can’t win,

a flower in the barrel
of the soldiers gun.

An extraordinary fellow, a gentle soul, with eyes of ice and fire,
and his Apache girl, lost in the explosion…
Darwin devolves and finds himself not a monkey but a Minotaur.
Love at second sight… Out of body politics…
the beginning of the end.
I have come! I will go!
(no-one said it wasn’t so)
Ambushed the the notorious ’13’ partisans

My adjunct and i were forced to use weapons of Magick
We acquired quite a reputation after that. We rolled into one empty village after another.
My Luger grew bored, all we had was morphine & cheap Ruski wodka…

(fragment found in the back of an old bible, part of a letter I believe)
After many attacks of strange humours (‘beateniks’ under the bed, his ‘mobele telephoon’ was ‘tapped’, all kindes of heresies and weiyrd ideas) – he woke on the 21st, sent for his coachman and best horses, dressed in his fine silk frock coat and breeches and left immediately for Paris. He seemed perfectly sane and, when asked to explain his strange ungodly speache and affects, simply said “I have an appointment Doctor ******, with a certain gentleman in the city”. His smile was quite uncanny. Had he not been a Comte I would have sent for the magistrate. A boy in town told me the patient had stopped briefly at the apothecaries for a tincture of opium and cannabis. He left his wife and three childrene in great distress. There have been rumors, but nothing has been seen of the mysterious nobleman since.
Doctar Norval. 1777 anno domine.

Those who seek shall find, and those with eyes will not be blind… I am not here!0e4d568530be4979c549f8afc1318986
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2 thoughts on “Procession of the Paradoxes.

  1. Pingback: Procession of the Paradoxes. | Diary of a Dog Fiend.

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