menthol powder
cigarette smoke
soft cologne
wafting through
unlit rooms
ice vapor night
a gang of disembodied voices
spirits circling the senses
/
I have everybody’s blood in me
You were born in the time of my mothers death
/
“She who is cared for by computer systems”
creature on autopsy table
bones luminous
zoological code not found
rotate my body
in zero gravity
view the specimen
find its neural network
part of its tail bone is broken
stinger, or genital
severed
I refer to a bad signal screen
data set confused
spitting back notions of
de-calibrated spirits
obscured workshop mirrors
crystal fracture hanging from false ceilings
a cripple moves through the dark
to a window with short orbital cycles
I can hear the humming in my bones
the autopsy table is warm
/
a worm tone
leftover food
one forgets to light joss sticks
insect pitch shifting
I forget closing hours
this is not a place to find life at night
night is a place that surveys life
how quickly the pink light sinks into blindness
discard the film archives
discard medication
the furniture is full of spirits
waxen figures invite us to liminal supper
caught in the cycle of dusk light
sundown wailing gives way to silence
/
we eat quietly
we chew quietly
the cup which is for blood
is stained with iodine
we sip quietly
we pause in light blue corridors
she is not here
but her dress is hanging
she is a
void example
she is a
make believe
she is spread naked on plastic
white furred creature hanging on chains
the candles are burnt out
the scents are vacant
I no longer see the strange angels
a window
both
oblong and gone
null
of storm night
sand front
plastic tarp over wet wood
stack
Of books
full bleed
dirty brown water colour from
Chinese bookshops
devotional ink
haphazard flowers
in the back lane
picasso, bacon, horrible face masks
odd circulation of lights and carousel horses
sea sick songs from ufo machines
null
obsidian rain coat
hooded art form
swamp awareness
distortion figures by the bar
atu zero to twenty one
keys reopening doors
/
now is the downward trajectory
power in abandoned states
blue light rods
white light rods
pointing down pathway
runway
exit
there’s too much soft tissue in the stomach
dim memories of the sickened tree
this body knows how to recall hauntings
this body knows how to ‘empty, bound’
for the creatures with the masks
the bloated naked Hors d’oeuvres
the gut becomes the dangerous garden
agony near swaddling clothes
/
I send data through dead channels
terror eaten by 404
I seethe
I taut
I simmer near death beds
broken hearted people carrying animals
rain misunderstood as mists
/
the vein searches the dried river
roots, blinded by
low body temperature
I show you vacant arks
stringent crates
vessels, upturned and sleeping
we are forgetting with tensile strength
our legs weaken with hypoxia
/
o pulses, erased, lacklustre
o behemoths, cowering like addicts
‘my soul groans within me’
speech, reduced to syphoning
now is the decline
absentia
now is the tentative and frightened
lights of the earth flickering
powers, ode and gone
//
Do not raise your children next to dirty stairs
a cluster of cops on an elevated garden
huddled like a pack of
sniffer dogs in tactical gear
noses and calibrated tweezers
picking up cigarette butts
they want evidence
they want persecution
office crowd / tourists watching the circus
maybe it’s performance art
SWAT team in
in order to
leave
astral safe house
I am given the knives
gestures / commands
tactical/ ritual
spirits as allies
I only ask for knowledge
guiding principles
courage
outside,
into the night of
uncertainty frequencies
as if
dangerous powers
emerge from
abysmal quarters
invasive / unseen
haunting shifting streets
/
I only ask for
navigation
the shield of thy presence
blueprints for the ark of me
This is not my design
but the design I’m called into
towards
becoming
psychic structural forming
boundaries of the body erased
the night mode of being
journeys between points
carrying families
survivors
refugees
I only ask to be hidden
in the shadow of your wings
delivered by your Hand
to mysterious kingdoms
/
oneiros hotel
toned with the palette of
pale flesh
banquet of the astral
feeding my roaming body
animal medicine
spherical / shaved & sliced
in frothing beige waters
green strands
hanging / sloped on wooden rods
small plastic tong with broken arm
small plastic pincers, delicate
peeling off paper thin vegetal
(plating on dry banks
moist rice mountain)
do not touch the river edge
drink from the giving bowl
/
O’ distant tree
crucifixion / celebration sign
clothed with the colour of
desert sand
o’ cousin
carrying the death of
uncle
O’father
who once roamed the western lands
what are the names of angels
revealed to me?
silent drifters in the wedding hall
critical voices from the past
chosen to cross my paths
I return to
daylight waking hours
bedsheet distressed
( no memory of struggle )
but hairline meridians
of light dissolving loss/
/
sometimes
I have to dig deep for
grim reminders
for the surface animal would scarcely believe
these are the agents of ageing
slow and perpetual
laboured breathing
night by night by night
waking and sleeping and waking
I try not to get caught
in the slow and perpetual
densities of waiting
yearning
wanting
long form exposures to shrouds and nights
I scour about
in the land of the living
like a lost child, searching
never finding
voids, yawn inside
such densities of waiting
longing
wanting
‘mourning and weeping in this valley of tears’
I’ve long left my prints on death’s gate
white knuckled, looking in
“not yet.” my Master says
I know
I know
so I take the long roads back
into dark halls and magenta lights
to dissolve passing grief in dancing
I can only pass the time
seeking out the presence of pulse and static
softening my dark ages in their young light
dissolving the self in dancing
has a kind of spiritual
/
there are 40 desert years in the man
a man in the 40 year desert
there’s a man in the desert of 40 years
40 years of deserts in the man
the man in the desert is 40 years
/
into stigmata hands
I bare my flesh
evolving from wounds
only orphans understand
the sound of my soul is shaped by
death rattle
boundaries erased by flatlines
such pain is a glowing star
such western lands too distant
such searching too futile
I am both
a medicine man
and a man
made from medicine
/
on my right
oneiric church grounds
with her old guard
(the rambling priest)
exultations incoherent / off pitched
altar boys confused
a great lantern raised by chains
into dome ceiling
ascension satellite
I’m moving slowly
in a private hire car
a drive by
down gravel path
on my left a concrete graveyard
a funereal family / extended from me
goths have gone white lace
alignment to seraph gates
this is after all death season
madre who never comes home
madre going Home for good
I cannot cross the threshold
I’m sent back to the crypt of
damaged angels
golden child blasted by God
there is murk here but also sunlight
after all, the promised path
eternal life / adjacent to endless
sonar for the blackened depths
I am backseat / fringe magnate
spirit flower cemetery
I am meat and addiction
wandering the interstices
passing through conversion structures
/
the psyche takes on
oneiric form
spirits secure in the dreaming house
the unhealthy branch takes on father form
banished beyond the window,
confusion on the ledge
against horizon, altered time
foreign galaxy, after space
the cosmic wind takes him away
gordian knot untangled
unsound fruit
cut
I do not panic
I do not grieve
the way I grieved
when they burned his body
blood and flesh on the street
is not his
but mine
a continuity of
sickened flesh severed
I tell the unseen “ he is already dead”
this here, is my paschal mystery
/
hanging on to the vestiges of wet flesh
there is aural volume in my blood
Lights and lazers humming in sinews
bodies, swaying, moving, snaking
In the astral realm
my room/heart is emptied out
construction supervisors
pointing to wooden structures
organise the purge
cockroaches,
fat on the meat of failed history
are chased and killed with mist
Into obscure places they run
but stay unhidden
I’m paralysed, tense in a crater of mud
maggots and dead leaves stuck on my skin
my fat is stripped from my body
a new identity
my genitals are gone
I’m pulling myself up to higher ground
23 nov 2022
a writhing, magnetic coil in the sexth pool
the child drew the sign ‘automatically’
directed by some unshaped force inside
but the choice to bite his finger and use his blood was his alone
I got some cake on my feet
don’t you think I smell so sweet?
I got done cake in my pocket
left side next to cash
roll it like sushi
smoke it like hash
All the tech is disconnect
.
she is the vegetal root and psychedelic fruit
Animal spirit ritual
cybernetic flora and fauna and fae and phantom
Blood horn
an hour as the wolf of Christ
penetrating wounds of purgatory
martyr brides, small ravers, mini pvc dresses
marked and trancesexualized
post war ballroom haze : broken techno program
space time displacement
we move from house to House
S letter
this astral store house has grown
long runways of white walls and blue shelves
sectors for childhood playthings, silver disc’d temples, frequency wetware
beneath a display of anime/erotis/militia
dress codes
a white cube with doorway opens
the cats, once hidden there by a staff, are gone
I learn of his termination (one more personnel down)
Who then, guards the mouth of this place?
I cut through the crowds to reach it
looking out for thieves / battle mongers / arsonists
the backpack I carry grows heavy
I open it to question it’s contents
and find the soft weight of both cats
is it feline waste at the bottom of the bag?
Is it blood and placenta?
I let the cats out to sprawl / prostrate / bend about me
It’s been over two decades since I buried them
their presence
softens the time inside me
a white cloud over pit and stone
like an otogoya
(after 31 earth days)
or twenty months of ‘departed time’
wax hardens in my streams
around my gut, a death mask
clothes soaked in chemicals
or buried in the fields
pastel, protruding from blackened soil
moist wood, monolith goth
bell tower / starving man
the drone of mortier
lugging on
o wounds of Eros
tempers mud
life leaking
dull throb epiphany
like an otogoya
a coalesce corpse
surrealisme spirit
fresh compost
endless river
last of the holy water
anointing loss
touching a light out of reach
o otogoya
erected,
facing alter
a son,
dying in the arms of mother
the drone of mortier reaches the humid shores of night. he transited from winter storming howls to lapping waves on muddy shores, birds of paradise, their distorted songs, causes an inter spatial shift in his starched, angular skeletai, his eyes, once bright with grey light, dims in the darkness of the sea. Salt air clings to his shrivelled lungs,
as he remembers drowning near the barren islands, jagged cliffs looming like monstrous geological teeth, smoke and ash and tropical disease
an interior clock with deceptive tempo, begins as he fully exits the arctic realm of mortier. A new fever takes hold.
“this is arc/sects’ world, and while I have appeared here, this is not where I need to be.”
extra/inter:spatial existence
bodai ossifai
a disintegration of the body into static formulae
&
(it’s ensuing medical crises)
other flesh frost biting / bones trying to ether
arctic fragility zones
knocking on the domes of
thinning iice
ventilator failures
groundless zero hum
winter storm erosion
0 polar club burial
powering down powering down
last of the pulses searching for night but finding naught
desperate end twangs to keep blood moving
before it all turns
blinded
white
summa con ritua
———————-
madre oneiros
time gap betwixt us
search bar asbestos
Alterterrestria
psyberconscious
muddy blue ink smeared in a grey pool
of static intelligence
as a girl encoding this heart
pillar (partner) of flesh and datum
by my sidereal
I’m we approach the elevator
IRVING PAUL PEREIRA 