Kūsō Genjitsu

 The story must be about text—it can only be about text—because 

that is the nature of the very story itself 

and since it leads to plausible conclusions 

that only a select few could readily accept. 

Among these, in fact, are the very words of living history

 written in blood on skin, transcending the emotions that flow 

toward the end of time, traced across generations 

on the parchments of flesh we all carry with us.  

   

acardian pasteur

 priolios shimmer kneee to the contrum pinnrsky drone 

   mandaronesh potter skrunje welchian skrowpice fleriscape

 nistil valens parteltarp chicanerositatiousness transpaterimbulus

  niver wiver privversionistic fortuinterstices perpindacularostic 

take a pinner on the breeze make a winner lag a bit 

  bake a diner in the knees and wake a pounder upon it 

 blisst a buster downknockenover plurasticular antics 

  cahording auver onnerbies  quintertibular and tines

  partnaid saidover dimsum traipscinged over brintulwud 

pistationasticule coldknowger nogga basterchile in dimmuns

  winder wundin.  Prtter parter past the seas of chitter charter 

  maddom unter ober awesumbastiches styched en tymers bliven 

  pored intwoscrent piersbunt vestkekd  kkkssk l l fjkfj 

Vivi Text

による   シュンジンクス・タロン比 

   この物語はテキストに関するものでなければなりません - テキストに関するものでしかありえません - それが物語自体の性質であり、一部の人だけが飛びつきそうなもっともらしい結論を導き出すからです。それらのうち、実際には、血で皮膚に書かれたまさに生きた歴史の文章が、時間の最後に流れる感情を超えて、私たちがお互いに持ち歩く肉の羊皮紙に世代を超えてトレー

Kono monogatari wa tekisuto ni kansuru monodenakereba narimasen - tekisuto ni kansuru monode shika ariemasen - sore ga monogatari jitai no seishitsudeari.

  - Mochiron, kekkyokunotokoro, jikan ni wa owari ga aru to iu gainen wa, kūsō to genjitsu o kondō suru kūsō-ka-tachi ni mo izentoshite atehamarimasu.

  

Oumuamua's Return

 When Oumuamua returned, they say it lit the skies for days and night

They say when Oumuamua came back, they did it like a sneak attack

They say there's not enough room in the world to accommodate us both

They say it's the war to end all wars from which we may all never come back

   The day Oumuamua returned was like a signal beamed in from another star

  The night Oumuamua lit the sky as if it were daytime caused some to lose sleep 

The year the Oumuamuans hijacked our lives and we united to fight them to the death

The fear caused by Oumuamuans gripped us tight holding us on the edge of our breath 

A Dream of Oxidane

 

  This is insane, a dream of oxidane, nobody calls it that, which only goes to show 

There's so much left to learn that we already know.   It's a matter of recollecting.  

 The stories of our fathers and mothers. The exploits of our sisters and brothers. 

 Here all together on this planet Earth. Sometimes our escapes into fantasy work all too well. 

We tend to forget the magnificence on display right here with mother nature. 

 Our catalog of knowledge adds wings to our sails, lifting up our spirits and steering our ship. 

We can get along when put to the trial, we're all in it together most anyone can tell. 

With our nose to the grindstone all of the while we'll brave it together through heaven and hell. 

   Here we go 

     screaming to a Dream

    screaming to a Dream 

   screaming to a Dream of oxidane

 Since all life as we know it siphoned in through the Eye of Poseidon so to speak

 We can see glimpses of its molecular chain forming deep within the ocean 

 With multiple factors on a planetary scale converging to set the conditions for life

 We emerge blind and blinking under the scourge of daylight on our journey toward demise

 Suffering multiple strobe lit attacks on our course by necessity wondering why all the way

 Knowing life has a way of balancing out the bad by adding value to the good. 

    A dream of a sinking golden chain of twenty four carat links dropped in the ocean 

twisting while falling through a sunbeam and flashing reflections occasionally 

  itself a sort of mirror reflection of our own constitution in genetic display 

 as a self-perpetuating organism in tune with our biome by definition, tenacious life. 

   A dream of a lustrous cane of polished black coral inlaid flush with the surface a golden insignia

 This rare variety of white gold flashed a pale shade of quicksilver in the moonlight

 It shared a molecular bond with the fibrous material in the wand allowing it to ground itself 

 In the greater electromagnetic field surrounding, rendering the device into a dowsing stick 

 carrying the innate ability to lead one to the nearest body of water, one who knows how to wield it 

   A dream of a body of water so vast a colony of whales gets lost in the distance 

 Calling each other with haunting ululations lost in the canyons of the deep 

  Consoled by the lonely howls absolved in the void on the rapid current towards sleep 

 

 

  

 

 

 

deep blog dream generator

 by  shaun lawton 

   When we're this far buried under the multiple layers of html programming already set to establish the architecture of the web city itself, we know our part in the ensemble of rapid assimilation gets lost quickly in the shifting gears in between; but the best part, besides the fact that we've seen it all a hundred times over cross-stitched back and forth and every where in between remains the unknown factor-X lies perpetually ahead enticing us forward to never stop giving it our all, never quit this neverending quest of the endlessly repeating dream, it's dead set ahead of us and we've prepared ourselves all our lives for it, so don't let it escape our fingertips before we scream.

  We've incurred a reparation to the entire host cell colony bloodline progenitor assembly machine so that a perpetual production line can be virtually guaranteed thereby maintaining its absence or its habitable accountability and upkeep factor, whichever the case may be having been met with perfect accordance to its self fulfilling execution.  

   Since in the case of its absence an automatic reaction to trigger a regulatory checkup becomes engaged the outcome pans out to a zero sum failure resolution which in plain parlance may be translated to perpetual maintenance itself a technical term meaning in perfectly well functioning condition. 

\

   

Ode To Yuggoth

for H. P. Lovecraft,  Adam Bolivar &  John Shirley

                                    art by Shaun Lawton





Our classical depiction of humans
And how we must appear to be today
Through an exquisite metamorphosis
Find ourselves in a transitional phase
As we must propagate our dna
To infiltrate our very own substrate
With age old unintended pollutants
And intoxicants our antibodies 

Struggle with, white blood cells proliferate
Against and agents within our micro-
Biome collaborate with and adapt
To while we all mutate and procreate
So that all the various living aspects
Which shape us variegate and rearrange

At the micro level encoding new
Bits into our molecular program
Taking advantage of ongoing change
Until fungi in our mycobiomes 
Alter themselves in a new direction
To which our fate is so gradually
Still being forged we don't even notice
The scintillating changes in our eyes

Retinal striations gaze upon us
From the mirror each day we brush our teeth
Until one new dawn beyond tomorrow's
Horizon something else would be staring
Back at us from our own dark reflections
Except by that time we'll have done away 

With the need for bathrooms, mirrors and homes
Because by then all the fruiting bodies
Will have recombined into fresh new modes
Bacteria and fungi will arise 
The dominant form replaces that part
Of us we consider human today
The surface of this very same planet
Will ripple with odd configurations

Of fungal formations whose shapes may hold
Dim impressions of the old human style
Except twisted and split in half so that
A shelf of fungus along canyon rims
Perched beneath the shade of towering pines
May resemble a fragment of rib cage

While other forms of broken off fungi
May take the shape of elegant femurs
Bent to the haunted whispering darkness
Gathered under overhung moss gardens
Tending themselves along the sunken rims
Of cratered ponds reflecting the still disc
Of the perfect full moon continuing
Its silent orbiting halo about 

The crowning Earth's mutated stage amid 
Lightning storms and pure sonic ablutions
Constantly upgrading preparation
For this modified phase of unfolding
Susurrations whispering in shadows
For the next solar hymnal to the wind