Ms. Denum continues, scatoblabbing--
26. When I sit on my throne and the small urban sea admires the vanity between my cheeks, I am king of all creation¾Merdia's sweet gift in a brief and brutal life.
27. Thoughts float upward as Merdia's laughter gurgles down. This dual movement is my goddess' contrapuntal glory. How many times have I sat in decision, scepter cast aside, weights of the universe hanging hot and light over the anticipative sea. My mind surges to the rhythms of my bowels; in peculiar synchronicity, they heave as one. That which has been withheld in darkness sees the tunnel's end; the blessing drops, and precisely at the moment of the first delicious splash, the tight sphincter of my mind opens wide and a solution to a great bafflement soars to Heaven and splashes in a cloud. At such moments I often offer a little prayer to Merdia, for her double goodness.
28. As human consciousness began with Merdia's first movement, so it will end with her last. She will raise her ripened buttocks high above the mediocre earth and extend her cheeks to the corners of the cosmos. Her perfect rump, full of adumbrations, will open as wide as Sheol and the four winds of the apocalypse will race down to scatter the sons of men. Merde upon merde will descend from her holy sphincter, covering cow and ass and city, and the dying gasps of millions will be, Merdia, Merdia, why hast thou forsaken us?
29. What light do we see at the dusk of time?
What song is the sum of all we've heard?
What is the source and abolition of man's crimes?
These and more are contained in our daily merde.
I sit on my throne and know my transience
While the waters hover calmly below my rump.
I rejoice in the heaving of my noble dalliance¾
a smooth, ripe, miraculous, perfect dump.
Who climbs to Heaven, falls to Hell, with equal ease?
Who causes a billion global glorias?
Who hints at herself in a gentle breeze?
Our redemption and creation, our love, our Merdia.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.