08-01-2023, 08:24 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-01-2023, 08:37 PM by TranquillityBase.)
“Let Me Show You the Life of the Mind”
So said John Goodman’s character
in Barton Fink.
It’s my mantra, my way of the pilgrim,
I collect my visions and store them away
in a hidden fortress of solitude
The Prester John Memorial Library.
I was born an empath, and a lover of women,
it’s been my destiny for 70 years,
like Jean de Florette, the rational refuses me,
apocalypse is always just around the corner,
it will always be waiting, the corners keep coming,
I am its messenger, a mutant Paul Revere.
I’m the only survivor, Alphaville has long since
been replaced by strip malls
and the discordant music of a corrupted world.
I seek out my muses and cultivate
their unrealities, experiments in dismay,
bind them into illustrated editions
that go to the Omega Collection, it’s kept
locked away for the next generation
that will never come.
This is my message in a bottle
but the bottle is empty and floats in a void
where the dead seem happy
and the living thrive in their ignorance.
Take my words for it, or don’t.
I’m almost done with my impossible task
and it’s been worth every minute
ticked off on the clock of things unknown.
So said John Goodman’s character
in Barton Fink.
It’s my mantra, my way of the pilgrim,
I collect my visions and store them away
in a hidden fortress of solitude
The Prester John Memorial Library.
I was born an empath, and a lover of women,
it’s been my destiny for 70 years,
like Jean de Florette, the rational refuses me,
apocalypse is always just around the corner,
it will always be waiting, the corners keep coming,
I am its messenger, a mutant Paul Revere.
I’m the only survivor, Alphaville has long since
been replaced by strip malls
and the discordant music of a corrupted world.
I seek out my muses and cultivate
their unrealities, experiments in dismay,
bind them into illustrated editions
that go to the Omega Collection, it’s kept
locked away for the next generation
that will never come.
This is my message in a bottle
but the bottle is empty and floats in a void
where the dead seem happy
and the living thrive in their ignorance.
Take my words for it, or don’t.
I’m almost done with my impossible task
and it’s been worth every minute
ticked off on the clock of things unknown.