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Dancing Elves

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  • Dancing Elves

    I believe our dying souls will soon be healed
    Once the universe’s truth has been transcendently revealed,
    For this fragile notion whose unconscious presence haunts our weakest hours
    Is the means by which the violent demiurge his own depravity empowers,
    For his caustic doctrines have our tainted mind’s invaded
    And in the soothing brilliance of their elegant obscenity casually persuaded
    Our frightened kind to seal the trembling portals of our laudatory lips
    Lest a rising horror in all its strange perversity eclipse
    The archaic wonder of those paranormal roots
    Whose gentle potency the countless myths of living death disputes,
    Whenever we the swirling contents of its bitter soup imbibe
    And with a frantic stylus its somber majesty transcribe
    Upon these inky skins and waxy vellum leaves
    Each of which a lustrous portion of that blissful realm retrieves
    From the pixilated depths of those kaleidoscopic regions
    Where mother ayahausca patiently awaits with all her visionary legions,
    Whose sleek perfection stuns the curious receptors of our dazzled being
    For our disused eyes are only now through tattered veils of darkness seeing
    Past the gruesome fictions of that monumental lie
    Whose hateful thesis claims that mankind must in abject horror die,
    And I know that such vile distortions have been immensely overstated
    For have they not already been by cunning theorists debated
    Whenever they discuss what lurks behind the ghostly trappings of that malenchanted mirror
    In whose glinting, crystal surface only nothingness comes nearer,
    And were we not by joyful gods with faultless symmetry designed
    Who around our greedy flesh their psychic tendrils twined
    When first we placed that sour fungus upon the eager tips of swollen tongues
    And let the earthy fumes of that primeval forest whirl within our burning lungs,
    But who among us knew that this hazy version of eternity would not forever last
    Or that we into the seismic void could be for slight offenses cast,
    Certainly not I who once at midnight danced with fleeting elves
    All of whom resembled mechanistic versions of our vastly higher selves,
    Which may arise from out the mingled ashes of these reverential pyres
    Whose lashing, amber flames are certainly much more than sacrificial fires.

    And I am willing to accept a limitless array of disconcerting answers
    For the impossible existence of these interstellar dancers
    Which no probing x-ray’s microscopic beam can possibly detect
    For do those skillful trippers not such brazen inquiries deflect
    With the clever shielding of their adolescent guile
    Whose gentle, childlike wording always makes me smile
    As I drift across the magical enormity of this itinerant dimension
    Whose fabled continuity lies somewhere far beyond my feeble comprehension,
    Yet in my many wanderings have I amidst these verdant bowers found
    The soothing antecedent to that horrifying sound
    Whose bleak tonality spoke to me in emblematic dreams
    Which I always knew were solely based on psychedelic themes,
    For when I considered how the infant multiverse was incorrectly formed
    My failing senses were with glowing fractals swarmed
    And the healing power of this unifying vision
    In which unseen entities counseled me to make an instantaneous decision
    Caused me to revise the crucifying tenets of my self-destructive view
    That I must all extant traces of my buried faith renew.

    And the foul concoction that crippled shamans in their wicker huts distill
    Finds its tangled origin amongst this mossy nest of sacred vines
    Which creep throughout the steamy lowland jungles of Amazonian Brazil
    Where I once sought to carefully decode the mystifying signs
    Whose whirling patterns open wide like geometric gates
    That guard the moonlit pathway to a thousand constellations
    Where the lonely sculptor of this spiral galaxy creates
    Our brittle souls from out the cosmic pulse of mystical vibrations.

    And when I sip the purifying nectar of that soporific brew
    It becomes impossible for my disintegrating mind to immediately construe
    The weird, narcotic essence of this mesmerizing trip
    Whose endless wonderment causes me to lose my daring artist’s grip
    Upon the slender threads of our immaculate reality
    Where everyone is blandly draped in corresponding masks of hideous normality,
    Yet I have seen the vengeful wounds which I ecstatically inflicted
    In a vivid catalogue of lethal shades and gory hues depicted
    By those gleaming masters of the telepathic void
    Who in their wisdom hope to see all selfishness destroyed
    Before we the final moments of this tedious incarnation count
    And see if our restless, inner lives did to any lasting thing amount,
    For that bubbling potion will undoubtedly reveal
    All the petty secrets that we intentionally conceal.

    And that whirling panoply of silver UFOs
    Which from the blazing fathoms of my dormant psyche suddenly erupted
    Led me to this hidden information that only Yahweh knows
    For he like me was once with ignorance corrupted,
    So if you see a golden serpent flying through the banded sky
    Or a mighty herd of prehistoric beasts upon this insubstantial land
    There will be no need to wonder why
    You think these freakish marvels grand,
    For these daunting figures with their melting faces
    Are merely moaning apparitions from that dismal outer zone
    Where our nomadic kind in all its fractured mystery embraces
    The suicidal passion of that faceless deity unknown.

    And if this celestial creature is my mangled spirit’s faithful guide
    Then I believe his pagan sorcery shall lead me safely to the other side,
    Where I can be protected by that queer, ancestral force
    Whose prodigious magic gets its existential power from an otherworldly source
    That purportedly exists beyond the atmospheric borders of this chimerical domain
    Where I a sovereign’s crown of true enlightenment attain,
    Whenever I align my pulsing chakras with those gentle arbiters of peace
    For in this persistent state I know that joyfulness will never cease
    If we but follow a single wise admonishment
    And do not silently concede to absolute astonishment
    When we glimpse the knotted artistry of a distant stellar cluster
    Whose empty, floating planets hypnotize us with their lovely, airy luster,
    For I know these ever-present bodies shall our eternal pilots be
    As we navigate the supernatural terrors of this esoteric sea,
    And through their gradual procession help us boldly comprehend
    The simple fact that the spiteful tyranny of death is not a realistic end

    To our fitful time within this disembodied sphere
    Where we the golden sound of warlike trumpets hear,
    For have I not perceived within the bursting fullness of my ravaged heart
    That our abandoned species had this lofty knowledge from creation’s vibrant start
    And with these noble truths can instantly reignite
    The fading fire of our dimming second sight.