I am currently making this visual kind of poem into a comic book........
Migration
Of
Yin Yang
It started. That could be a complete thought. It is. It did start. But then it died. humans I mean. they died. unthinkable. All their paintings and churches and fried chicken and their odd obsession with balls of all sorts. The motor hums even when it’s cold. Some remnants remain, some frozen thoughts. It started with a wedding. Sometimes when humans got married on the beach. They say "I do". Then they walk into the sea. What do they taste like? They must be plump. Plump but smart. Not smart enough. Then the mountains, it married the chemicals of man. And after the I do’s it walked into the sea. It was plump on the bones of ancestors. And the sea got really big. Isn't there a human joke…how does it go.....the bride gets big after saying I do……I do now where's the cake? What is cake? It must have displaced their volume dramatically. Human history was forgotten. Well most of it. I know about some. Not enough for a pattern to emerge….there is always a pattern…No one learned nothin' not even me. But isn't that always so? In this place, no time to cycle. No time for renaissance. it is not a timeless time. but a mortal time that dies with us. It is a time that can be cut up, rearranged, born, tortured, worshiped, ruled. Who am I you ask? I'm the guy at the end of it all with a broom. A biggin' and i cleaned the rubble away in piles that turned to dust. Then there was desert left in its place. Wasn't no fault o mine that order would become so…dry. This desert, it was lined with barbed wire in two inch rows for miles and on the wire are crows. The crows frost on reality. savage oil spills undulating. clutching to the wires with dripping talons. Crinkled riots of age marks smile at mankind. Fleshy and dripping. Static clinging on countable electrons, insane and twitching. Shitting and cawing to the movement of reason and logic. A watch tower crawls along the sand and in it moves a man. electric fences grow. guards with glass eyes reflect the colorless expanse.
And now is the time of darkness
and the eradication of light from another era
The man shouts into the bull horn:
-1
Then a dove takes to the sky
And he shouts
+1
a crow lands upon the wire
-1
the negative dove is so removed with winged flight
+1
A crow takes it's place.
-1
the dove flees
And he shouts
+1
the positive vibrations of darkness caw it's blood lust
devoid of red and the more subtle hues of mortality
they cast no shadows
along the lines
and there is only 1 or not 1
the balance. the symmetry. clean. simple. efficient.
Then a caravan rips through the desert. Bandits. With a cache of watercolor paint and oils and glitter………forbidden colors……red, blue, green, orange.....they are going to paint a flower.....a pretty flower.
Outraged the man screamed into the bull horn:
No comments:
Post a Comment