Author Topic: The Crime Of Man  (Read 177 times)

Offline Cliff Sombito

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The Crime Of Man
« on: December 17, 2020, 11:05:23 AM »
Here I wrote a poem in the style of Allen Ginsberg.

# The Crime Of Man

Crimes when the sun rises, more crimes when the sun sets.

Jazz bringing back alive the mercurial fires Armageddon into the trembling ruby emulator on the throat of a gorgeous Crimean woman

and her black gothic dress upon freeing itself from her body possesses the breath of air

and lightness and solstice as its invisible wings and flies to the subway station only to be sideswiped by a moving train

and the terrified passengers all yell: a suicide! A suicide! But theres no way to go to a funeral naked as a babe, such is the crime of man.

I sat there on the bench alone contemplating about the fly on a half-eaten cheese Chihuahua burger beside me— who might have left it there

for the agent of rot, worshipper of dung that always and never forgets to wash its hands? Perhaps this is virtue;

About businesslike lycanthrope mice with their suitcases full of mashed potatoes and nude photos of slatterns,

patiently waiting for the next train to take them to Siberian laconic hell where porridge is crumbled ice;

about radio callisthenics in the anatomical park where the repeated circular movement of the bison arms

is equivalent to 132 mph forming a cyclone that destroys everything in its wake;

about the golden armistice celebratory clock tower where electrode angels of bastardy grace us with their presence

saying holy holy holy as they raise their red hot flaming swords at exactly 12 midnight to wound the sky;

about a field of dead shrimp where at the center is a metal monolith sending signals to its extraterrestrial creators that the time has come to invade the earth

and the lactating cows are ripe for plucking— then a screech and a howl from mars, they will send their entire fleet, the mother ship, all for the love of milk and tectonic plates

or perhaps this is all just a diversion from the human engineered Corona virus which is a plot against humanity by an evil organization who wants to control the world

and in the attempt the men underneath them will become a herd that can be culled whenever they want, but I will die before they inject me with brainwashing fluids,

I say an eternal no to Bill Gates' vaccine, a thousand diamonds shall break before the furnace flames melts the iron ball in my hand.

As long as man exists, the crimes won't stop,

even our own existence is a crime as we are incapable of choosing to be born, a result of symbolic immortality,

we are a stolen consciousness from the void put into the flesh person to suffer for years and die

just like an ant who works in a Kafkaesque environment without knowing how to live outside the colony

but if you pour gasoline on the colony and set it on fire that will be a necessary evil to unlock and discover your true self and breakout of that cocoon of suspended animation—

awaken! O machine of dirt and water, living tubules of empty air—

awaken! O Heart and loin of fire, desire that burns eyebrows in the night—

awaken! O immortal mind of the void where the concept of digits doesn't exists—

awaken! O window of thought and will, seeker of lightnings and ice creams and encyclopedias, for the truth is what not lingers— the song

of lament by Josephine the mouse strengthens the smell of phosphorus in a slice of bread along with a spread of strawberry jam and shards of broken crystal,

is this a trap for a trapezist alpha bear? —one thing will they know that I have fled from modernity into the tar pit soul of pirates wherein I become a part of the sea—

heave ho, heave ho, I see treasure in the mirror,

free and one-legged and missing an eye or perhaps tentacles for a beard, I feast upon the tail of a manticore, no one has more freedom than a pirate—

how am I so misshapen that I bleed from my pores and a Black Dragon Hibiscus is blooming from my spleen,

my head is nesting at my feet like a football that craves a good kick, my body bends toward the sun just enough to roast my fish scales, warts and fungus—

I vomit a rainbow, myself as the shadow, everyone going to and fro missing a piece, not knowing who they are.