White Neon Chaos

Meat Dream Neon Chaos

Cool breeze and butterflies…it always starts some way or another. In the thick of things before you know it. It never starts at the beginning…always in the middle. There never was a beginning. It’s not easy to blow someone’s mind with words…colors are better…or music…or images. Words are abstract…they may refer to things, but are not the things themselves. There is no “objective correlative” possible…maybe if you’re an Englishman
frozen in mind. …but then the best words can do is break the ice.

Lost in a maze of minarets…harsh flute sound wafting embedded in incense of cardamom,
sweat and offal. You don’t need that veil….you’re hidden enough as it is, eyes glass encrusted by millennia of custom…get off the fucking camel…it ain’t going anywhere except another desert…if you want oasis you have to dig it…come natural like hippie goddess naked in the sun. The truth still applies, even though the sixties was a bogy on
control’s screen…no one’s come up with something as good before or since. It couldn’t hold together ‘cause of chaos…but I’ve got the pictures.

BLAM!! BOOOOM!!!! Hand me down water for thirst…your cool breasts shining dangle diamond flesh dreams…white men all clazy clacking tongues incense of sense in front of twisted mirror….believe at your own risk….it all boils down like coffee pot…I want to break the piggy bank…uptight sweating bullets never get you laid…clouds in the sky why not they don’t think…even the pyramids want a little more time…click clack skitter scutter full throttle out there ‘cause no here here. The the invention of priest control
freak…priest, politician, general all lost in toys dangerous to take seriously then you’re fucked for real. Ok to play, since it is, but it belongs to no one….and it never really was.