black monoliths over new jerusalem no.5

see the pale-faced boys amongst the rubble, filled with dying, devoid of joy… idiot boys lingering in the shadows, teeth dipped in venom; licking their wounds and talking of genocide… lingering there in grim despair… toys of systematic decay…

wordless boys with crippled spines, torn from plastic dolly limbs; nauseous, thirsty, all alone… adrift amidst the ruins, the black, greasy belly of the dead city heaving with rot and misery… broken-babies scar the burning earth…

haunted pedestrians under a crescent moon, hanging like a jagged blade; rusted and poised to cleave at the ruins… dirtied, bloodied, broke, stillborn; ragged hands rifle through the remains of lost, discarded generations…

dust and debris greying the skyline, black monoliths hang voidal in their murkiest repose… all foetal-reasoning lost at birth… in glass-shard towers they crawl home; adrift in chemical lullaby… visions of new jerusalem…

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research outpost dissonance no.3

fever dream in the microbial-virus factory… machine malfunction dystrophy; the rusting blown-out guts of morbid-industry… white noise over the intercoms, ghosts talking in tongues over the portable field-sets… piss and blood congeal in the outpost gutters…

emergency protocol manual pages unbound and burning… idiot hands grapple at the core melt reality… china syndrome… plasterboard containment fields in flames, dead eyes stare into the pit… upon the static air float thick-fluorescent dreams…

tempestuous skies and electrical storms loom above the drained lake, burning the firmament…  a faint rattling of the window shutters, a whispering along silent bunker corridors… cable-cracklings of the radio towers… dust-storms darkness, debases, devours…

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black monolith rituals from the old world

gathered together with my 667 guild brother, artist lucien shapiro, and expert film-maker arvid wuensch, this last week saw the performance of a very special ritual here in the depths of the old world.

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for now, might i share a few images from the locales of the sun-down segment of the invokation, but hint that further still-image evidence will be forthcoming within the coming weeks.

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how i will also reveal that a short-film and music video will result from this communion, in association with anette records, and shall be unveiled at a time when all things are in their correct place… stay tuned for more information…

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desert sand serenades in blown-out monochrome no.1

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out into the saturated image field… desert sand serenades in blown-out monochrome… fire temples half-submerged in the rolling dunes… black snakes etch verse across the glinting vistas… campfire communion ritual incantations as the blazing sun sinks behind the distant mountain range horizon…

tone poem utterance gazing into the flaming embers… crystals strewn betwixt flickering candles… the desert sky circles the scene, trailing starlight firmament in kaleidoscopic spirals… droning distant winds murmur, the night undulating and coercing the beckoning…

a black bull lashed to the back of a flat-bed… dry lake, dirt road, hosed in petrochemicals… pump-jacks wince in the psychedelic dawn… wandering out into the spill, clawing in the wake… there is a tape recorder inside the sun… a blood-orange-glow  burning out the backs of our eyes…

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