Tag: outposts

fear rituals from the 49th parallel no.5

diesel generators moan and reverberate in sinking tower-blocks as oil drum fires flicker and spit…  drone cameras flying high above all the ruined cities of the western lands… dead sentences igniting, enraptured in mid-air… here are litanies of fear from the 49th parallel; blazing wounds in a chemical sky…

battery-fluid kisses, sickness caked in lead… a campfire smoulders, illuminating the treeline as a series of effigies steadily sink betwixt the diseased mangroves… the verb to live, the verb to die…  suffocating bliss, existential immolation… forbidden-forest fornication in the phosphorescent shallows…

landscapes alive with burning tyres, burning towers, burning oil-fields… factory smoke stacks hang dormant above empty lots, project housing, alleyways, school-yards, gas-stations… riot shields and blast-walls, tear gas and barbed-wire… plastic-coated dead, swollen-babies, vultures on the gallows swarming…

out here shine no stars from the discoloured heavens… only masked incantations in moon-menageries of hell, ruined pavilions and wind-shattered dreams… laughing lovers languidly lay together, new atoms inside them liquefying… sexual excavations birthing flowers of new formaldehydes…

6|6|7

insect void delta no.3

apocalyptic fever dreams in the psychotropic delta… insect void… centipedes across the skin… poisoned fruit dripping… rotten spores in lungs and throats… wilting roses line the temple corridors… watch the madmen howl and scream, claw at their own flesh… watch them hack themselves to bloody death…

following the stagnant pools and molasses rivers upstream… blood-oranges dipped in angel teeth… weapons dipped in fever-breaths… paranoid hallucinations of external morphology… marauders talk in vile tongues… waking nightmares as the medication begins to run dry…

fear transcriptions; perfect, prime, paranoid… in twilight-dusk, in sweet disease… poisoned-lagoon firefight ceremonies… warpaint camouflage, reflecting pools… lovers hypnotised in sexual moonlight sabotage… building altars upon bones, constructing new torture-terror-thrones…

a series of polaroids in flames… pages of notebooks, unbound and burning… a soul to strangle, a soul to save… slit throats bleeding out over carved chests, as the amber full moon glides up over the treeline… mandible and head, thorax and abdomen… pills, they merely anaesthetise…

6|6|7

along an infinite blast-wall corridor no.3

cement dust blankets vistas of the world forever gone… through the fluorescent light-fields and white noise hiss-tracts… distorted visions trailing neon haze spectres along the infinite blast-wall corridors… despondent eyes watch the lunar installation corrode the dying sun…

a river of kerosene snakes a slow path across the bed of the drained lake… a hundred grave candles circle an obsidian monolith… pretty girls dance in  long ruination, dreams adrift on the long, grey vague… tender boys sidle between the collapsing columns, bathed in the shadowy half-light…

premonitions of the fallout, coming like thin drizzle settling over the looming tower-blocks; smoke and fires torching the midnight sky… testimonies to the litany of unholy human wars… the rationale, the hubris, the voices – they were wrong…

a black mollusc slithers, dying, across a rotting atlas… fingernails scrape at tree bark, lanterns light desolate paths into the long desert dark… before the prison-porticoes beckon us to fall apart, before a column of white smoke rises from a silent circle… there are rituals still to be undertaken, my beloved…

6|6|7

fire sermons from the old world no.4

denouement cloaked  in frozen bliss, icy fingertips dipped in ashen-sickness… a series of vague memories, poorly-lit, going away… hymns from survivors crackle and hiss, drone and whine, collapse and come apart… lost faces wrapped in funeral shrouds, staring long into the impossible steppe…

warehouse beside warehouse in rows, bombed-out, ruined, abandoned; dead… floodlights illuminate the blast-walls in the long distance… out here we are stricken, scattered and cut-up, broken and unbalanced… desolation measured in muted hues… the worlds we destroyed, the worlds we lost…

nearby a fire-sermon falters, its memory fading as freight-cars ferry the wounded and dead… smoke filled skies, whole cities bombed… along dark corridors misery looming… upon wet brick ash-lilies lay in steady waiting… slow utterances of whispered hopes faint and timid…

6|6|7