Tuesday, March 16, 2010

FUGUE BY THE TING KNOWN AS RANDALL

by Randall Rogers

i got my goddamn hippie wings
today

i fuckin floated away
it appears
into the nuclei of the UNIVERSAL ONE atom
where
no god sat
couldn’t find any wiggle of force that would take the job either
looked around
kinda got full of myself
being a man, going
with this dying thing,
when I found out hey
this dying trip
they, whatever, it really
can’t kill you
I was dead but when
nothin’ went black shut down
and my eyeless sight
could still see,
I said shit
is this dying?
am i dead?
because i sure ain’t got no body
and i’m emanating
pulsating
I started saying, shit, is this dead?
come on, kill me off!
wither croak gasp rattle and all go black me.
I started getting angry
being dead but still me
alive with no body
among hexagonal sort of forces emanating waves blurry fast quivering
i knew who they were -
fellow dead whatevers -
well shit where do we, i, go?
I wondered

i was getting comfortable
I got to liking being dead
no worries, man,
then, shit,
when i got a grip
i was seemingly poised with a question
do I want to destroy all there is? – I was looking light years upon like three
close by universes – and i said hey man i never asked for this job
but god damnit
hell if i gotta be god
and i bellowed a god voice saying
well, shit, try to be cool worlds, universes, etc., man
love one another and all that you know
I tells them in my god voice
hell, go the bob marley way
i told the universes
the matrix the everything that was only I after all
rasta, man, I said, Jah!!
smoke the herb brethren and sisteren, I said,
and take care of and be nice to one another
I was really getting into it
ordering as god everything to be mellow, and cool, and smoke da herb, mon,
when damn it I started losing my godness.
shit i was coming to my senses going back into that
applewhite shell sort of browny grey and withered husk shell of a body thing an expressionless motionless gandolf-like thing having all
the life sucked out of it and all the irresponsibility in overdoing it partying and depressioning done in it, all the hours/days on end jerking the dick thing limp hanging from it for hours a day, each day, hypersexualized, doing way too much meth, watching free youporn.com smoking constant weed and indonesia keretk clove and tobacco strong garam brand cigarrettes
I’d put into it’s aveolas into it’s hyper burnt oscillating brain.
in frames, zooms, I returned
to the char-lunged needle poked hurting lil’ dead withered closed eye grey fella laying sprawled dead clutching a sheetless mattress clinging in feebrile effort to earlier, when foolishy I fought to live in the thing, to preserve, to cling to a life that was the old body mind idiot me
- i didn’t want to go back in
the wall crawler of a lifeless creature that lay dead there
and hell, the foot on the damn thing hurt when I sort of bitterly started entering the thing,
then the more I got inside it the body I could see blood was gushing out of the big toe which appeared cut, almost severed but still connected and bright red drops dropping blood silver dollar pancakes that splattered Pollack-like on the bland beige tile floor
still connected though,
that painful bloody toe,
and it sort of hurt too, the foot the whole leg on the thing as I eased fighting to stay out of it into the thing
reanimating it
even further in I thought shit, I hope I’m not missing both legs or even one, severed, cut off you know, because I didn’t know what the hell happened to the thing when I was gone.
i don’t want to – oh hell I’ll just have to handle it – told myself
then I was back fully looking out of my eyeballs feeling moving my fingers and bony skinny concentration camp speed diet frame fingers and arms
i began again thinking in that head
arms legs everything worked as I took stock in of the old vehicle.
I got up from clutching sprawled position face down on the mattress, the television was still on, janis joplin cd in the opened holder of the dvd player.
I then thought
shit, I wanted to die, what the fuck, I gotta die twice?
I said outloud sort of disgusted angry-like to the cosmic non-organization whose god or organizing driving principle was, as i had found out on my journey, was me.
what the fuck! come on, it’s time! Time to go! I could speak with the mouth of the thing me now no booming god voice talking to universes anymore just me in my cramped cluttered filthy thrashing trash papers books things I been lubing up and shoving up my ass trying to figure out what the attraction and sensation of having a huge cock shoved roughly and deeply to the hilt up my rectum was like preparing me in case i went gay.
but no, there must be work for me to do among you earth cambodia morons i surmised so the consciousless energy that is the something from nothing which you see and be when dead and alive too I guess sent me back, shuttled me home
shit, more work, I thought,
i wanted rest
dead black nothing rest
but god damnit the soul, I experienced it, it don’t die, it appears, at least in my experience in that neck of the woods dimension realm and all them shifty force shimmering folk that populate ghost acres.
you just go hang in celestial energy, with the other shifty force thingy things sorry sap dead alive magneto energy pulsars flitting around nothing much to do çept check out the new dude or dudette that blazingly arives asking what the hell?
and like most humans on your Earth place
to me, at least,
these us-everythings being the structureless structure of space-time statistics, and moving swimming flying about in it, this yes you matrix creates the space the area the thing it goes along in wherever it goes, sort of a not boldly going where no thing has gone before but creating matter thought dimensions as you motor about void, it, basically an energy field, a huge and tiniest field of an air hockey float with in and upon multidimension you-create deal with no start no stop, creation and evaporation of universes worlds populating beings where ever and when you chose to move creation, the whole apparati appeared essentially personalityless, nuetral, a big bland nothing, like most people I meet. Until I arrived.
end of story.

RANDALL KARLEN ROGERS, FEB. 2010 SIEM REAP, CAMBODIA©

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