[DEATH TO THE CLASSICS:] [PART 2:] May 09, 2005, 02:22 {dawn} we turned the linear time off and it’s the death to the classics in every laugh I asked the violent four how to get this blood from my hands It’s in a circle and it’s closing in The circle is closing in. We set the dials on To the Love is Dead on the Xanalogue In the bowels of digitalis, horoscopes do weigh us down The dust it wafts the center stage and porcelaina, she skins the ocean seas You’re in love is dead again and it’s In E. Leopold Trouvelot We Trust The red monthly seers like a casino kneecap as we’ve been eating like gypsy moths. A guilded tongue is a novelty in these chloroform days Silken shivers in the olive sunlit, and we’re all cashing cows since sleep is a sickness. With a face like cuneiform, I wore my death rays true to form And the ringworm’s crawling in the cactus bloom. My lacquered bay was shattered, my starry eyes gone pantomine I’d call her Pandora swinging from the gasoline lights all night It’s just rattlesnakes and calico in the back of the lower case We’ve got this legend to live, until it’s lights out for brown balloters The cremaster fiasco and the vice grip The pavonine sheens are so ghostly and selfish The blue notes playing on the Victorla There’s no victory in the Love is Dead, only acclaim and infame for bottom feeders in the falling city backwaters The fevers been playing forever, but you always looked well in that color It’s a shame that the clovers are enough to tame the last of my friends. Eyelids to hide the skin worn tarantella touch I drank her acetone with the crime lights on They lift the veil in the procession so bang the filthy gong again. and slap the Lisa near the deep end oils, this time it’s the coral moon that beaches our whales, the girl with the inverted burgundy eyes her lucky penny’s still at the station and her pollen in the trees Oh blacklist miss, write all of your faithful subscribers and youthful squires And tell them that the circle is closing in: [VIENNA-TELETEXT FROM THE STATE READS:] “Widowmaker please decode the lies Wrap the Gypsy silk over my eyes. Doppelganger with the Velvet Touch And all the debutantes are crying out for love…” {midday} I ain’t a follower, I ain’t a leader And If I step on a crack, I’ve got the barium fever It’s like an everyday’s an anyways And the shackles cackling to the czech republic swing This is Danger from Salvation, and he accepts the invitation If this is now or this is never We’ll call the sirens out forever So if we do or if we don’t We’ve set the fire without the smoke. The shills looked to the charlatans They flocked like moths without the flame The flambe batch sprawled on the sidewalk Pre-fab in 15 filthy ways. [TELETEXT:] “Carry on, my children, humanity, kind bourgeois and journalist virgins . . . against systems/ principle to have none. complete oneself/ to perfect oneself fight for and against thought .... Every product of disgust capable of becoming a negation of the family is Dada; a protest with the fists of its whole being engaged in destructivc action: *Dada; knowledge of all the means rejected up until now by the shamefaced sex of comfortable compromise and good manners: Dada; abolition of logic, which is the dance of those impotent to create: Dada; of every social hierarchy and equation set up for the sake of values by our valets: Dada; every object, all objects, sentiments, obscurities, apparitions and the precise clash of parallel lines are weapons for the fight: Dada; abolition of memory: Dada; abolition of archaeology: Dada; abolition of prophets: Dada; abolition of the future: Dada; absolute and unquestionable faith in every god that is the immediate product of spontaneity:* Dada; elegant and unprejudiced leap from a harmony to the other sphere; trajectory of a word tossed like a screeching phonograph record; to respect all individuals in their folly of the moment: whether it be serious, fearful, timid, ardent, vigorous, determined, enthusiastic; to divest one's church of every useless cumbersome accessory; to spit out disagreeable or amorous ideas like a luminous waterfall, or coddle them -with the extreme satisfaction that it doesn't matter in the least-with the same intensity in the thicket of one's soul-pure of insects for blood well-born, and gilded with bodies of archangels. Freedom: Dada Dada Dada, a roaring of tense colors, and interlacing of opposites and of all contradictions, grotesques, inconsistencies: LIFE” Crowds erupting at the seams- Unsure whether brilliant/unnecessary- The siren’s blare like a discordant orchestra in heat- We pulled their fingers down on that boiling blacktop Their re-enforcement flew in over us The milk splashing against the pavement, spelling our battle cry The toaster kissed the water and cued the chickens to disperse; Like Siamese twins conjoined by the bloodthirsty rants of you and yours. The Resident, discreet, crawled out of the trapdoor Czech Trojan We, the tragic heroes of the case, got the final curtain The yolk smashing amongst the crowd and socialites Tearing out their hair and lashing their applause like switchblades, 50 dollars in Vienna currency were dispersed and disguised as vigilante sperm. Immediately thereafter, Danger engaged in fragrant fisticuffs with the head Czech Republic Dominatrix, Salacious Sue. Widespread Panic ensues! The crowds become riotous and demand to see the dead body of their patron saint, E. Leopold Trouvelot. The Czech Republic sniper, Piscina, aims for the heart of Vienna: She misses and hits the surrounding autonomic tissue causing instant paralysis Of emotional/illogistic functions. The applause sprays from the incoming firetrucks and the campus fills with true believers and the attack dogs at their heels squealing: “Everything will be alright” I’ll ask Gideon to book me Because E. Trouvelot knows I’m guilty Give dillinger my deathbed, all I need is a bodybag to sleep in I’ve been digging this, a grave sight; shallow, dirty, unsuspenseful I was born invisible ink, to line their gown of broken pencils. Ozug cracks his knuckles in his olive garnished tomb He tells how he’s smelled gasoline, and nervous sweats at the clap of thunder. He’s got chastity belts from here to the painted desert Our hour glass was half mast in the camp of concentration And the tired tongues of the lesson Said it was time to move on… {sundown} betrayal by the ballot death by diamondette I’m going to die in Memphis sleep is a sickness I was born a Capricorn and it’s In E. Leopold Trouvelot we trust ego is your only true love {dusk} well the white banks off the deep end and the nights spat soft and brittle half daft and monumental, it’s all heels around the weasels I’ve been betting on derailment but I’m the Lincoln on these tracks Seems it’s two gentles to mademoiselles, but belfry’s back on the greedy cat Spires in the fire and bite the cuticles to kill the timing In the backseat was the sweetest in the skin of a calico Cheshire grinning in suspense and the full moon is taking tabs It’s like the only thing worth repeating is getting caught red handed, I’d ask the great depression, but it’s all words are poison nowadays. A gush of musk makes haste for a taste of a lush Remember when, vicious friends/invisible fiends? Make for the vendetta sidebar where their taffies have all gone tiger tamer Spite is the only lonely token by the ocean Enveloped in the fever forever Until forever is a placid sunset scrawled on the wall I’ve foreseen the downfall in the white banks It skipped a faulty silhouette along a scar garden tide No thank you for always, I’d lose the taste of pheramone after my pride. Ripe was the danger for the three widowmakers Soft was the priestess for the sleep is a sickness American Peach asked for a promise When I gave her silence in motion. {twilight} it’s always hotter in hell And doll faced down by the latchkey And when the charlatans weren’t two-stepping they went sipping soda water And the black lights and their lice were the toast of the town And his eyes went all Poseidon, pseudonyms and backwards hymns And slumped in the corner were the doppelgangers in green And the naked rugs in the pickpocket pool And the greedy cat was licking off their carbon copied haircuts Because the scene of this crime is a mating call on ice and it’s always hotter in hell And blue jeans are steak fried And the idiot walk is the roman stool And the rattlesnakes and peacocks are just a lovely swig away And the slobs are stitching names to their lips for a tease And the fire alarms look so tasty And the red is patent leather But the blood is on the dance floor, and the love is dead is the next track And what a dizzy salvation city steam And now the androgyny is at the knife fight And the night life is a porcelain death because it’s always hotter in hell And I know somewhere there’s an envy out there for me…. [END VIENNAGRAM:]