Words words words are useless
when the sobbing comes back
But I was wrong.
Those words, to me, are powerful words.
I've also been thinking alot about Aladdin. In a strange way that horrible George Bush tried to rob me of one of my favourite bedtime stories.
I'm taking it back, with words.
Has anyone seen Aladdin? It seems forty thousand years though its more likely since October or November. There was some talk of Jonah but in the end we agreed the culprit was more likely to be a whale. So I climbed the minaret to search, three tiered, not leaning. Look! The houses stand on sand. Foundations are indispensably fundamental. Scanning horizons with high hands shielding. All around a cracked cobalt Babylon. Still.
Peering out of moon-towed arches I see a square tiled perfection despite the guidebooks and the chaos. I see alchemists, astrolabes and algebra yet not a halo in sight! Those were reserved for the uniformed swarms of godarmies and the ranks and ranks of purified panzers. We were initially concerned. Would they be crack shots? But daily there are new high scores. Did you not know that there is a tradition of confusing the cobalt with an aureole of flame?
Someone offered predictions of an awesome loss of faith and a newly mosaiced people scurrying underneath a great unveiling. Of course old Azimuth maintains that it was all hoax. Burning bushes in fire-proof suits.
Five times I’ve called for Aladdin. Sitting each time til carpetstars clicked clockwise. Of course there was a rumour that the ships had already sailed. Low-slung with wisewomen and David and all of the anointing oils.
So where in the hell is Aladdin? Don’t tell me he’s too sand weary. Hidden under dusts and secrets. Crossing his arms and screaming until his knight visions vanish and the bloody stone rolls away.
when the sobbing comes back
But I was wrong.
Those words, to me, are powerful words.
I've also been thinking alot about Aladdin. In a strange way that horrible George Bush tried to rob me of one of my favourite bedtime stories.
I'm taking it back, with words.
Has anyone seen Aladdin? It seems forty thousand years though its more likely since October or November. There was some talk of Jonah but in the end we agreed the culprit was more likely to be a whale. So I climbed the minaret to search, three tiered, not leaning. Look! The houses stand on sand. Foundations are indispensably fundamental. Scanning horizons with high hands shielding. All around a cracked cobalt Babylon. Still.
Peering out of moon-towed arches I see a square tiled perfection despite the guidebooks and the chaos. I see alchemists, astrolabes and algebra yet not a halo in sight! Those were reserved for the uniformed swarms of godarmies and the ranks and ranks of purified panzers. We were initially concerned. Would they be crack shots? But daily there are new high scores. Did you not know that there is a tradition of confusing the cobalt with an aureole of flame?
Someone offered predictions of an awesome loss of faith and a newly mosaiced people scurrying underneath a great unveiling. Of course old Azimuth maintains that it was all hoax. Burning bushes in fire-proof suits.
Five times I’ve called for Aladdin. Sitting each time til carpetstars clicked clockwise. Of course there was a rumour that the ships had already sailed. Low-slung with wisewomen and David and all of the anointing oils.
So where in the hell is Aladdin? Don’t tell me he’s too sand weary. Hidden under dusts and secrets. Crossing his arms and screaming until his knight visions vanish and the bloody stone rolls away.
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