Whose phrase of sorrow conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand like wonder-wounded hearers Hamlet.
What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?
Moloch whose blood is running money, Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks Moloch!
Ashcans and unobtainable dollars, Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy. -Allen Ginsberg
Albion's coast is sick silent; the American meadows faint!
Buried in the ruins, on Urthona's dens; Empire is no more!
And now the lion & wolf shall cease. -William Blake
All of the following antilogical words came from dreams:
All Art is fire that all tears the sun
Time is failure to unstudy the moment
Where all these distances and angles
Go unopposed, I only
Tumble to see strange imperfections
Infiltrated by Egyptian linguists
And am set dreaming Hell Well one more Arabia
Like a camel shooting cars,
in a vibrational hideous invasion,
we’re giving aid to cosigners with warrants
Others of many solitudes
hold the pride of mentality.
While the moment of charm imbues
inside reality
Quazed by duds,
the voices of too many
walk the corridor of souls
Only good come near this,
Only mud can smear this
Wooden Mary
In beautiful alchemy,
canyon seeker Louis Urich
descends Summer’s mountain
With architect feet, the captain on the Beemo
will spend all day
in a bronze cafe
in some kind of milky way
There's nothing that can be done,
except to do what must be
The truth can never be won,
It can only be lost, see
From my cry I look the alert
With a battle in my heart
Cloud call begins now,
Outstanding as moments move
