Friday, September 22, 2006

The Ferret Wheel.
Fulsome forest.
Craters. Brackish Water.
Fulsome Secret. Blossoming.


In copper domes, wet, bulging with rainforest. Coiled with brightly coloured snakes and long armed monkeys. Howling and croaking.

Bulge eyed monkeys, panic-striken and bellowing.

Fire lights the forest. Smoke fills the dome.

Moonwater. Dusty and milky.

In sports arenas and thunderdomes, refugees huddle under blankets, listen to static on transistor radios, hallucinate voices, abstract messages from the hiss and crackle.
Religous cults gather around the radio to hear the revelation.
Under dark skies warped with lightning, swarming with rain bugs.

Smoking braziers, wooden pallets and picket fences broken for firewood. Milk and moonshine.
Rats frolic like rabbits, fat and carefree.

The War God has returned. Fire engulfs the world.

Palidromes and thunderclaps, post-it notes in a filofax. A department store.
Ageing carpets and low lighting. Sales assistants with the outfits and attitudes of street hookers.
The merchandise is all unsold 1950s stock. Dust grows like a grey moss on every surface.

The manager scuttles acorss the shop floor like a cockroach when the kitchen lights go on.
A sales assistant asks if i need any help, then turns around and shows me her arse, cellulite in fishnets, thong-split.

I feel vaguely uncomfortable.

As i turn to leave the shop staff bare their teeth and make noises like wounded animals. I start to run and as i do so the staff run too, they chase me down aisles of kitchenware and lingere, stationry and perfumes. They are howling, a horrible hysterical screaming which makes the blood run cold.
As i run i notice the cold eyed mannequins, dressed in tweed and gingham, these are not men and women of plastic! These are the embalmed bodies of the dead!
posted by Luke 12:12 PM

In the Control Towers tall, thin men, like skeletons, parceled in wax paper, plot the events of next year.

The God of War is returning.
His worshippers greet him with bombs and murder,
lay garlands of entrails at his feet.

The God of War is returning.
The people quail at his feet.
Abase themselves in the dust.

'To Fear me is to Worship me.'
posted by Luke 10:49 AM

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