maw maw elaine and the inevitable pink magic destiny of the cruel redeemer

part 1

the “Pink Magic” Rite and the Sacrificial Birth of the Archetypal Plastic Man

here is the woman of whom all women got there name…maw maw elaine.  her name rings on the dawn of time like a bell initiating the rite of  astarte and thereby resounding the spirit of the venus of willendorf.

this is my grandmother. here is her job. a job in which she milked crisp five dollar bills daily, for my burning young pockets. durring this age a pocket of jobe only held money, in five dollar format. there yon treasured bill would sit, for a season of hibernation until the rainy rites of spring, that’s when the money would stand on it’s own. the bill of elaine would emerge from its sarcophagus, answering the call of the cash register. the buzz of the recipt machine crying in ecstasy like the insects swarms of warm weather poverty. From son-so-grand to grand-mother so called, unto the moaning witches of the kmart check-out. the currency bears it’s name like teeth before death, gnashing, and biting in the dark. a current finally sacraficed, finally banished,  exiled along with a few extra pennies to seal the alchemical rite. unburdened of use, our banknote is let loose with copper sacrament, to join the divide and banish the restlessnes of empty souls.

the magnus opus of this rite of “pink magic” is a plastic man of many archetypes. there are many faces of the universal heartbreaker and saviour, the maytr of suffering through release. the archtypes, of this kind, available to childhood wonder, were given life; he-man, skeletor, beast-man, trap jaw, man-at-arms, teela, stratos, zodiac (oddly my favorite at this age, in hindsight, is probably the gayest one. it’s a wonder that i made it out of early childhood alive. flaunting flamboyant and eccentric action figures of a subversive religous and sexual nature, as i was).

part two

pink collar of the she-devil who weaves subterfuge unto daily love

maw maw elaine, after giving birth to my mother and the world at large, ritualisticly gave birth to my he-man collection via pink magic. my childhood, the childhood of one possesed of the great snake, was protected by this society of symbolic men. these plastic men were all in the image of my fathers and rightfully instilled my dutiful sense of violence, destruction, anarchy, and…art.

my maw maw herself  the grand preistess, worldmother; sister to ix tab, patroness to all who hang themselves; aunt of itzamna, spirt of early morning mists; her brother humwawa the dark angel of death, lord of decay, lord of the future who rides on whispering wind of the south; the devine cousin to ix chel the-spider-web-that-catches-the-dew-of-the-morning; and finally her lover hassan i sabbah, old man of the mountain, master of assassins and direct genetic, magical, numerlogical blood spirit that drives the small black heart of the pink judas, the cruel redemeer jobe de dedesesperación.

she was born on the left hand side, an immaculate conception. the powers that be covered up her birth, erased her existence, and destroyed her identity, one of noble and ancient blood. she was forced into obscurity and coerced into meanial labor. she took mortal work, the sickest of all, she became a liaison between dead animal souls and the mortal entrails. she delivered flesh and blood,  food straight to the hole in our faces. she did this for capitol, but more so, she was taking on the motherly duty of divining emptiness from daily chores for the greater good. the greater good, that is the seed, the brood, the coven…her children, who represent her love on earth. her children who will travel into the future on their pink collar wings, where the only task bestowed on future men…is to sing the songs that immortalize all great movements. to sing her history backwards, from death to birth…

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#1

Our house is gone now.

#2

Childhood. Forget. Old man’s hands.

#3

Help came, but too late.

#4

To her father, “please don’t!”

#5

Car accident. Methadone. Suicide note.

#6

My only child returned. Dead.

#7

True love found and forgotten.

#8

Her last chance, critical failure.

#9

Best friend. Hotel. My wife.

#10

Rich, full, life. Needlessly ended.

Of our body,

the unartfulness

of mass people

communicating

formal desire

has never

made a wish,

which was weary,

diminish.

Extinction is

dwelling,

inmeshed in

the relationship

between

sleep and

the physical.

Not absolute

sense, but

unconcentrated

mind

and

worldly despair.

Formations

behold

how vision,

and the corpse

dwell,

detached

from harsh

unconcentrated

mind,

living

ego of which

is no ego.

Mind

stealing

from body

by reaching

that which is not

perceiving

the

[breath]

tear dimmed,

despondent

upon dwelling

in contemplation.

All living

endure the cold

of mental

formations.

mind[breath]

body[parasite]

of  spirit

It confides,

body

is also

forest

living

and

ego clenched

In

contemplation

ego free

now

Tongue

is

transient

body

Is

forest

mind

Is

[breath]

Note: I created this poem using a Burroughs-esque cut up technique. I used classics of thought, spirituality, philosophy, and religion like the teachings of Buddha, Francis Bacon, Sigmund Freud and so on. I thoroughly revised, edited, and added to this poem. Other poems I kept in their raw state with bizarre punctuations, strange capitalization, and free form structure. In any case, I think I really benefited from using cut up.

My walk, a near sprint, out of the engine room brought me past a swarm of nanobots performing their scheduled maintainance.  The collection of bots buzzed a fast tune that almost met the current criteria for top twenty hits. Trying as hard as I could to exit the building I forgot the nanobuzz pop hit as quickly as the bots diligently worked. Later that night I layed in my pod trying  sleep and all I could do was hum that fucking nano-tune. Even here, safe in my pod, it is impossible to escape the tyranny of my work,  I thought.  I’ll never sleep while humming the work song of the nanos. I guess they will never work with hope of sleep. Enoch off lights and hold any interruptions ,on sea sounds.

ART ABOVE ALL.