Friday, April 8, 2011

The Western Lands Saga

The western lands
Traveling under an azure sky
I try and escape the father of lies
by crossing the bridge of sighs

With each step chanting a mantra
to break my inner cipher
trailed by cackling magpies
as Apook lurks in every nook
trying to snare me with his crook
impale me with his hook.

But by invoking my seven souls
I enter the realm of the bold
Dodging the crags filled with hags yelling
"evoe!" as golems dance on their arched backs.

I feel the heat closing in
The fuzz look placid from all the hits of acid
as the squealing pigs hallucinate, prevaricate
I call on Dr. Benway to operate.
But the old fucker just procrastinates, acts obstinate
Eventually he objects to the limited torture,
because he dislikes my high couture
After I carrying out the procedure
I suture and make a killing on pork futures.

I summon Kerouac for a game of jumping jacks
we write rhymes on one time
to a beat that is lax
Ogun on his way to Oshun, chants a sutra for smiling Siddhartha

As I free associate
Hoping that no prions act like ions, disassociate
making my brain lame before I achieve greater fame
I have never been sufficiently celebrated
However I am not yet a rotting corpse

But before you summon the hearse
I will read more tales of mystery and imagination
interact with tesseracts,
place infinity in a five sided box
eat my bagel with extra cheese and lox.
I will perspire after my desires and never retire unless I expire.

As the KGB and company sneak around Karlshorst
I play with Airsnort
The junkies with monkeys
carrying machetes and bringing flechettes
endure storms and scrapes
while hunting for rutile
but their endeavors are futile.

So we grab the 103 degree burning man
dance like people with no plan
Pagans in body paint dodge and feint
as our fearless leader tells them "bring it on!"

Bold Ares summons the dogs of war,
in a celebration for gore
as they pant and grunt
once again the poor unduly feel their brunt
they honor their paters
sacrifice to their maters

So we cast our bread on still waters
knowing we shall never have sons or daughters
From Damascus to Aleppo nobody weeps for the Azores
Instead celebration and elation for those who wiped out the canaries
(their interests were pecuniary)
Where are the Caribs to bear witness of what Columbus did?
Who knows the name of Tasmania before the rule of Britannia?

From the banks of the Niger
to the mighty old Miss
I watched the falls of Niagara
with a secret shiver
it traveled from my liver,
passed through my marrow
to the quiver with fifty arrows

She asks me for her locket
As I dig in my pocket
Mind coping struggling to cope, I feel out of hope
Grasping for rope I touch the note
written by Kassim it says:

Seek liberation through desolation
Avoid inebriation
it only leads to alienation and isolation
Only you can bring elation

So I turn my back on the hack
Make a mad thousand yard dash
up the thirty nine steps in time to see
a new sun rising over Proscion
This ends the saga of the Western lands

Go west young man!
Rape and pillage those indigenous heathens
ignore the pipe of peace
Shed blood in the streets
Go west till you reach the shining east
Pray and genuflect in the direction of Mecca
from the plain named Decca
Burn biscuits to Yoshi on the peaks of Mount Fuji

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