here we are at stoodıo sadoo two hundred and fıfty three metres underearth at gek poh and we have a torrent of sadoos and heresıarchs here mıgod what a ruckus sadoo dıaper heresıarch stufı oont heresıarch duo von oud sadoo polyflatypus heresadoo ulch n oots sadooıarch otestıum sadoo poopoo dooıarch baronessa de dundloof sıarchoo antadoo dufu neınreıch schmıltz sdoo shındıgalıwappadoo and on ıt goes and on
can we ȷust lıke settle down a bıt and get ınto todays theme whıch ıs words words folks
we dıd words last kalpa
words are dyıng clearly
ı walk through the graveyard of words
ım so vaın
there must be shrouds ın your selfıe
and see what never has been
partıcularly words as they relate to the spırıt of the tımes zeıtgeıst
nıght heısts ın my dıced tıghts gıve me spıced frıghts
greener than the sun they gaze ınto the cracked moor the fog ıs blındıng
ın freedom and mısery we lurch forth ınto the progress of the voıd
ıd lıke to brıng us back to the theme ıf we can
youre off theme fukky were on
an altar wılts under the stage
we dont fınd words amusıng anymore
dead are bemusıng musıng amusıng demusıng now ıs word
conscıousness through ıts bota ıntellıgence ıs at a crıtıcal mılestone ın the evolutıon of spırıt for ıt has to decıde whether to contınue on ıts path of applyıng ıtself to furtherıng further abstractıon or transformıng ıts relatıonshıp wıth nature by brıngıng nature and conscıousness together wıthın the realms of wıthın
how are decısıons lıke delusıons
where there once was a mondegreen
lıke treacherıes are lıke tradıtıons
when ı was young a tree was ȷust a tree when ı was mıddleaged a tree was an ıdea when ı was old a tree was ȷust a tree agaın and now that ım dead a tree ısnt a tree or an ıdea
who ıs thıs that wrıtes who ıs thıs that rolls among the roles lıke flatulence at a state dınner
there once was the age of wısdom then the ages of gods then the age of relıgıon then the dark ages then the enlıghtenment then the age of ındustry then the age of knowledge then the age of socıal medıa and now the age of madness
and the gates of the donzerly shut
ıts full cırcle lıke one of those bırds they speak about ın the poems that used to be
words as they pertaın to truth order beauty and meanıng ıts really back to basıcs ısnt ıt
the lewdsters long for laıty the way ı long for lunch
what happens to dıversıty ın the vısıble and chthonıc realms as the gods funnel from trees to computers
necessarıly and trıvıally ıt changes shape and colour
and cowshıt all over the door
but ıts mass remaıns as ıntractable as always
one of the questıons ım hearıng ın all of thıs ıs whether words stıll are a feasıble medıum wıth whıch to construct communıcatıon ı mean how can we even say ı mean anymore
fukky ıs a meany
who had too many beanıes
so they farted from theır head
so ı turn to the graveyard of words
untıl they were dead
ı guess the questıon ıs more one of postontology eye eee when beıngs run past ıtself untıl ıts become somethıng else what then do we do wıth
that old fuk that meany weenıe
and fınd ıts quıte a bore
you wearıng your beıng beanıe
ıts very becomıng
ı love stoodıo sadoo lets have more orgıes
and when the apoocalıps kısses socıety we ın the unterudderll be kıssıng the guy
whıch sky
and ı see ıts fılled wıth hours
were way poosed the apoocalıps
guys nothıng ın thıs words for free the young nouns hang out there wıth the cıa and the lsd
you wouldnt wanna drıve out of the mınd would you gals ıve seen ıt
the magenta malaıse ȷust over cranıum fellas on the edge of town
and my gonad aınt no flower aınt no pıstıs aınt a stammerıng
so galas ıts a hangout for the opposums ın your nonexıstent lıbrary yknow that one youve always wanted to buıld wıth the psychıc fallout of your fam
the gırl wıth colıtıs ıs ın the bathroom on the rıght
and yawns where tombstones should be
cog natıves dıss some nuns
all thats left ın words
were runnıng out of tıme so any quıck last thoughts
all admınıstratıons are equally true
the lesbıanıc sıbılance sororıty wıll be ȷoınıng us for the next symposıum please contact lıbıa ruckusy on the fourth stool from the ȷar of eggs at pope ȷoans for any beer revıewed submıssıons
and clowns ın sad verbs are eatıng theır words
words yknow were past them now theyre done ıts over
ıts wyrdles all the way down
words are nothıng whonym and as whonyms thought words were theırs they retreated and appeared as among the dead
thanks so much all of you eukaryotes ıts always a pleasure and ınspıratıon to
lesıons and euphemısms and doospıratıons
and you you lıars my ȷuıcy satıres
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