Wednesday, October 29, 2014

6033. RUNNING THE APOCALYPSE

RUNNING THE APOCALYPSE
Now that I'm running the apocalypse, let me settle in : 
my dangling feet have just landed, the candy-jar is
filled to burst, and  -  already  -  I can hear five 
hundred kids splitting seams at the door. As my 
father used to say : 'this is not a couch, it a 'settee'.'
He was an upholsterer and all that stuff made a
manner of difference. I'd always figured a settee
was one who sets. Like me.
-
Now that I'm running the apocalypse, let's make
flames come out of faucets and water from a
match. I think that would be a grand coaltion
of moment and matter  -  grand photos on
buildings, bells that won't gong, and women
sitting around with cigarettes in their holders.
I  -  truly, and in despair  -  want a new world.
-
Rilke it was said 'you must change your life.'
When it all comes out in the wash, there's no 
change to ever be made, he knew not of what 
he spoke, and I never too much dug his 
overly-sensitive nature anyway. But  -  
since I'm running the Apocalypse now  -
change will start today.

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