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Monday, October 13, 2008

Fuckin' Rimbaud: an appreciation in neurotic

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Once upon a time, somewhere in orient; a priest-king there was.

In constant nightmares he slept: his sleep was uneasy; he dreamt with revolutions of the life, feats of love; amazements always new: i explain myself: he dreamt with the triumph of the instinct, the essential impulses, good or terrible.

The dear prudence and the voluptuous pity abandoned him: i explain myself.


His authority absolute was, and he began making war to the 111 kings of the province.

His army invincible was, and he wasn't a fool, during his years of sanity.


Strange tamed beasts, holy whores and sordid eunuchs, there were on the Ëarth, yet.

Languid-scornful troubadours, and columns of gold there were on the Eärth, yet.




And the pheasant.











...And how the ballad continues?]...



















...In his melancholy, the king used to...




...jump over the mob, cimeter in hand; shattering people, destroying them in pieces, enraged.













All his chamberlains and chambermaids were minced and devoured in eleven banquets of horror and silence.


All his concubines were reduced to aromatic powder, and smoked.

Everybody returned; nobody returned.













In the jactitation of his heart, the king used to promenade by his terraces, shattering and torturing bêtes deluxe.
Like the golden monkeys of the rainy jungles, the men-horses of Sagittarius and the gorgeous tiger of India.

Talking monkeys there were yet, on the Ëarth.

No-one died. All died.




















One evening...
while the king was raving and shouting *by jungles topographically unknown*, 3 tall apparitions in deep blue met him suddenly.
...Their contexture was pure effluvium of love; an incomprehensible löve, multiplicator and phenomenal...


...And how the song goes on?]...

























...The apparitions possessed the kïng; the king possessed the apparitions: in the essential satisfaction, they four annihilated themselves. I explain myself:

they died.

Nobody died.

Everybody died.


















...Though the king died at his age of insanity; the king was the apparitions, the apparitions were the king.

The apparitions-the king, the king-the apparitions.








Does offend the much sincerity our ears.


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