el bee's a em rah rah

Big up to the Bilderbergs
the Archons and The Demiurge.
The clergy of the missing persons
distiling vril behind closed curtains.

Pay no attention. The spirit molecule
was left hallowed, after the botched job
robbery at the hostile. "why bother?",
the motto of the brimstone babies
with no father. "Everything's permitted"
said The Mother, good and proper.

Eat, smoke, drink. Fuck the faith of me.

Bear the luminescence in remembrance
of the tremendous endlessness. Mention
LB at the entrance to the great abyss
and recieve two free tickets.

Sneak in a third. Double down on astounded.
Round up to the nearest hundredth micron, and
force feed the tail to the mouth of the python.
Write on the walls in the catacombs of new Roma
spelling out S-O-M-A in the runes of a new poem.

Something down-homey. Folksy. Average man,
average woman, average cloven-hooved ancestry.
Ol' time religion, eating cubensis with the minions
from intense imagination, rendered suspended
but highly animated. Sedate the awakened sleeper.

Sneak bath salts under the eyelids of time keepers.
Spend, and then replenish. Reach around, extended,
into the most improbable space, in your mobile home
customized to the taste, of the travelers melted face.