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BURNING THE BLUEPRINT 83-84 Cy- ber- ne- tic con- ver- sa- tions Mescaline feedback A union of frozen scarecrows Crucified on the street Your saviours are still dying And it never pours When it can STORM Giggles the Optimist The cradle to be my grave From dazzle to drizzle in 23 hours I have gone, grey- eyed day Parents and teachers My behaviour has not 'changed' In broken laughter, betrayed the Fear Vanished into New Bedlam A prophet without belief Hero without courage The mindless philosopher Endless possible titles for myself The reader has a few more… The leaders as crazy as the anarchists Killing time before we all go to Hell Here’s a visitor Appeared in my permanent stagefright Lines blurred between The role and the model I cannot stop shaking And it aint the rock and roll, pal These confessions are masturbation But I am sure the priest would approve From the angel sky to those off -key- zones THE REVENGE OF SENSES NOT USED BEFORE i feel, surreal, 3rd eye feel, surreal I am RAIDED with muse telepathy Not exactly innocent but still naive You try to stop the animation This far beyond three years of experiment Dare to cancel sequences Now locked and running I sit in a corner by the door And watch the angles of the floor. /// A collage of various thoughts during this time, although one line comes from 85 (The first re -typing was done in 90) Flickers of trips, and flashes of the future breakdown. Creepy, re-reading this, as with most of my stuff mid 85/// |