Your keys were stolen by the devil; she used them to open all the doors of
distortion and sound, to turn out all of the lights living in the waking moment when
all of the young gods had grown old. Club Extinction, where life is blood & pain.
Reality, a new dialect of language & seasons, harmonies of invention. A new
industry of human consumption. Where did you leave those keys? You had
everything to gain and nothing to lose. You had the emptiness of an over
agonized poetry and a religion of your own that served the one. And in the dark
you wept cold bitter tears for a god that never cared or even remembered your
name. It was as if all of the life upon earth had just vanished in a moment or had
suddenly developed an expiration date. Hiroshima Mon Amour. Goodnight &
goodbye. Still hiding behind all of your intellectual armor, still fighting all the
infidels of time, the thought Gestapo and the killers of the sacred word. The
emperor of ignorance and all of his angels of destruction still pretending to be the
heroes, like the dead skin flaking off ourselves to become the new. But you
remained timid, docile. Stood back & behind and watched from up on high while
all the rest of the world attended to their dark responsibilities techno-fucked by
the man to become the last piece in a puzzle of intricate nothingness, the
universe. The dead phallic worship of a ghost who can’t find his own way home.
To be mortal, to be human to eat, to sleep, to shit….to fuck….to love. With your
heart, you’re head and your balls. To feel when within the night maybe you will
think of daylight, a longing for some long forgotten stranger or hope. To want
something that means something, or something that just matters. For somewhere
beyond the sea the singer sings about you and me but leaves out the part where
you became a pain in the ass. And I remember the day that the romantic died
and became the angry man. Was it suicide? Or was it murder? I guess we’ll
never know. Because when you fell the sound came down deafening like some
overpowering pop overture upon your knees and you finally came to the
realization that you are nothing but a moth to the flame in the afterlife, another
peacemaker sent gone bad. A transcendental agent of the temporal wake who
can’t remember even who in the hell he is. Wednesday… your keys were stolen
by the devil who sells real estate on the side and who can suck on a soul like
there’s no tomorrow. Make a note; never do shots with the devil, she’ll get
everyone else killed and will make you question your own existence, not to
mention, she’ll break your heart every time, in every time, if you just give her
half a chance.
IN CLEOPATRA’S EYES
“And all the light of the world surrounded her, and in her eyes there was
salvation. As the world and she slowly drifted off to what seemed like a million
miles away. Where all time stopped, streets seemed empty. And the world was
no longer there. And in her eyes there was still beauty, light…salvation”
‘How did you get here?’
She smiles politely, and then says,
She had to cross the River Nile & a few other places,
Made a few deals with the Gods, and the Oracles and had to apologize just to
get the night … ‘Off’.
A few past lives & a bottle of wine,
But this time without all the poison.
‘I’m just sick of passing romances’
She cries, then smiles at me like a cat and asks; by the way,
‘You don’t know a guy named Mark Anthony … do you?’
To which I reply ‘No, not at all.’
As she touches my hand and stares into my eyes unwavering.
And then says ‘Thanks’.
Seduces me with all her wiles & and all her false innocence,
Her beauty still there, lasting & full of centuries of lingering pain
And then she talks about her job, her life and all of her endless
Responsibilities. Asks me how my day went and wonders if she will ever stop
being so wild, and one day finally settle down
With a couple of kids … and a house.
Tells me about a number of all her failed past relationships.
Not based on love but only on power, appearances & success
That never ever quite work out.
And then we talk about the pyramids, empires and poetry,
Says she likes jewelry and wears a scarab necklace that she tells me that she
bought … at Macy’s.
But all the while I still keep staring in those eyes,
Where all memories and all histories last but all finalize, as they take me off
guard and once more willing to take another chance.
Knowing far better, than I should.
As we walk into the her bedroom, her skin like ivory
A beautiful tattoo above and yet below covering the
Length of her back, and her long black hair that sweeps across my body as all of
my angels watch.
For in Cleopatra’s eyes
I remember all time
In the darkness
Shining in their light
Where I too tonight
Shall dream of all the mysteries
In this moment that is mine
Stronger than any romance