Date: Tue, 17 Nov 1998 07:04:18 -0500
From: Daniel Carter <abz-AT-inch.com>
Subject: Re: the veil




On Tue, 03 Nov 1998, Manjusree wrote:


>ghost-post-modern beacons terminate shelved corporate lives one by
one

>snuffed out seeds ground in dirt sprouts mashed smashed wounded
beyond

>repair sickened worried stressed bloodless heaps of strangulated
grass

>roots the mustard seed lies dies dead

>

>

>opti-prism of mad mass murder girdered skyscrapers hurtle optimistic

>corporate forecasts of bodies to circle Earth goddess dying a slow

>death.



ghostly post mode urn Ur in her sound the partial night's groaning seed
no veil a quantum shimmer in the beaconing bee a cloning: this was
party the result of circus dances in hitch s/he was wording through the
mouth's embodiedness/(embodied nettedness/nestness) emboldened by
death's hold through software and proto-soft-wear out inside the
brain/mind fields' fluxi herded in terms of terminal shelvings on-call
but not to one's Self cut off at the pass may I see your passport? may
I see and shelve your anciently past sport? catalog and analyze eyes of
the rear view posing as straight up one's path view blocked by
corporate-and-global-finance-industry placed mirror in the place of
one's very own eyes both outer and inner all this become the private
ties lake to be plumbed by those self-appointed few these blues and
blacks on the spectrum toward whiteness superficial Super Face throws
us off universal track once again playing us against one an Other where
the One becomes the Other where that which is most deeply ours is
stolen our light stolen the stolen light but it can not and won't stay
forever in the wrong hands (no) more shelved corporate lives at some
future point when shall it be? how long before we free ourselves one by
one from already having been one by one snuffed out as in Iraq: 7000
children dying per month because of sanctions, 7000 living seeds for
the planet's future ground-smashed in dirt little seedlings mashed
smashed wounded killed these blues to blacks s/he sings of the constant
stings and worse to worst pushing the wrong end of the envelope crashed
us onto the shores of our very lives into a daily living walking death
a death that lives and thrives daily supported by billions upon
billions of wealth generated by us that we let them take right off o'
us every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every
week of every month of every year of every decade of every century of
every millennium her words sang into me her melody stopped me her
melody started me her song startled me: worried stressed bloodless now
also filled with depressed blood and electricity their breath strangled
out of them they now are afraid even to take a breath of air which now
must be paid for out of depleted dried-up desert funds her words shake
me to the ground found recently by being thrown out onto the sidewalk
street of my former insides all turned out for the bloodiness to dry
and there is no cry for crying yelling and screaming have been banned
snuffed out blocked extinguished like the routine snuffing out of life
itself this celebration of horrors to please acknowledge the dark and
stark for this is only the beginning of search for the elements of
world music in its mirroring of the opti-prism of mad mass murder
lyrics I heard her sing into our ears and what's left of our hearts on
that night in that club where we all went in order to escape the day we
had at work that day and tomorrow just to step out of line for a moment
of song and she sang and we listened until it killed us in order that
we may begin to live even in the midst of those girded skyscrapers
radiating from their antennae high above us all (or so they think)
optimistic corporate forecasts of bodies our bodies product bodies
satellite bodies electric money digital electron bodies to circle and
imprison and squeeze dry and poison thus our Goddess Space Mother but
someone told me she ain't hardly havin' it passed a "certain" point and
that in fact we in the turnin' point right now I wanna thank that girl
for helpin' sing these blues cross-gloss-spectrum blues these blues and
the victory therein inherent/(more coherent than laser) thanks for the
blues you sing that awaken and energize/re-enliven us.


>-Manjusree


Daniel