Age is the cruelest cage. That Iron Maiden of the soul with its rancid breath and crooked face, and that catacomb's embrace which leaves nothing for desire, as ambitions expire with a twist of fate and tepid luck both conspiring to construct a fabric of a universe born of idle sighs.
Age is the cruelest cage, that draws its waters from a well of memories, as its daughters spin the yarn and tell stories of Kubla Khan and the Holocaust on Christmas Eve.
The night the World stood still of its own will on the edge of Its Awakening but slumped back into that abyss of Elysian slumber. When, from atop the shoulders of giants I saw the dawn rise above the brim of my teacup while Brahms and Bach stood face to face behind my back calculating the origin of the universe with their finger tips.
Under the bridge in Nan'an, sleeping in a box and waking to see the endless line of humanity carrying its womb on its back like a mutated tortoise in exodus from the city of salt leaving in its trail the bloody spots of human dreams strewn elegantly yet random on either side.
The old woman that smiled at me and then grimaced as sunlight poured down her face like molten glass. She was my granddaughter carrying my granddaughter on her back.
Down here under the bridge the sand is cool, and dark, and moist. It smells of Tinseltown blood mixed with molasses. Down here under the bridge the thralls of human industry never tread. Down here under the bridge, smoke and books still live on their taboos. Down here under the bridge it's always 1999.
Inhale,
Exhale,
and Discharge.
Stand on Buddha's palm and leap all the way towards the pillars at the edge of the world. You'll find your answers there, written in monkey piss.
Carry me back a thousand days and ask me when the world will end. I'll say "Around the bend."
"In a day or two when my words have run their course." Through and through I would say "The end is nigh" and sit in the corner waiting to die. But not today.
No, not today.
A thousand days ago was yesterday.
Today I'll say "You wait and see.The end will come for you and me, and , what is more
"Age is the cruelest cage, an Iron Maiden for the soul. It will be harsh and cruel and long and infinitely more beautiful than you can imagine."
Age is the cruelest cage, that draws its waters from a well of memories, as its daughters spin the yarn and tell stories of Kubla Khan and the Holocaust on Christmas Eve.
The night the World stood still of its own will on the edge of Its Awakening but slumped back into that abyss of Elysian slumber. When, from atop the shoulders of giants I saw the dawn rise above the brim of my teacup while Brahms and Bach stood face to face behind my back calculating the origin of the universe with their finger tips.
Under the bridge in Nan'an, sleeping in a box and waking to see the endless line of humanity carrying its womb on its back like a mutated tortoise in exodus from the city of salt leaving in its trail the bloody spots of human dreams strewn elegantly yet random on either side.
The old woman that smiled at me and then grimaced as sunlight poured down her face like molten glass. She was my granddaughter carrying my granddaughter on her back.
Down here under the bridge the sand is cool, and dark, and moist. It smells of Tinseltown blood mixed with molasses. Down here under the bridge the thralls of human industry never tread. Down here under the bridge, smoke and books still live on their taboos. Down here under the bridge it's always 1999.
Inhale,
Exhale,
and Discharge.
Stand on Buddha's palm and leap all the way towards the pillars at the edge of the world. You'll find your answers there, written in monkey piss.
Carry me back a thousand days and ask me when the world will end. I'll say "Around the bend."
"In a day or two when my words have run their course." Through and through I would say "The end is nigh" and sit in the corner waiting to die. But not today.
No, not today.
A thousand days ago was yesterday.
Today I'll say "You wait and see.The end will come for you and me, and , what is more
"Age is the cruelest cage, an Iron Maiden for the soul. It will be harsh and cruel and long and infinitely more beautiful than you can imagine."
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