Relax We’re Already Dead
by Adam Engel / August 11th, 2012
fraction of accident: obedience
though curly black intimidating
embarrassments accrue (eyes, hair?), clotted
divine self missing for days, weeks perhaps
hard to know precise moment
separation of soul body
so quick unnoticed like death by sniper-shot
Tibetan book of the dead (with Jungian intro)
they really knew this stuff
(not Jessica Mitford’s
no way to get rid of the damned stiff
without blowing thousands before lunch
and speaking of lunch: that ain’t free either),
crammed the Cliff’s Notes waiting for
this Day
or one much like or near it
when abrupt alienation
wandering
ridiculous avenues for souls to —
really it can be too much with-out the proper
training, grounding faith, whatever
this sudden universal STOP
and everyone stumbling around
hypnotized, confused (as usual)
not wise to the —
nowhere near it —
billions of chumps turned ectoplasmic
clumps, Zombie Pinheads chanting
Iggy and The Stooges in tongues,
Patti Smith, Minutemen, Ramones
about all day sniffing glue
nowhere to go nothing to do:
we all “travel economo” now”
no shit, on that score:
they don’t – or won’t – realize
not yet, maybe not ever,
that this one thing, this END
is ever after always now: forever
Adam Engel lived for your sins -- and he lived well! -- in Fear-and-Trembling, Brooklyn, one of the last gangrenous toes of NYC not yet severed and replaced with a prosthetic gentrification device. Engel has traveled the farthest regions of cyberspace, where Dark-matter meets Doesn't-matter; and Anti-matter, despite its negative connotation and dour point-of-view, excercises rights of expression protected by Richard Stallman's GNU/Free Software Foundation and CopyLeft agreement, if nobody and nothing else. Having spent many years studying Boobus Americanus (Summum Ignoramus), allegedly the most intelligent mammal on earth -- after its distant relative, Homo Sapiens -- in various natural habitats (couch, cubicle, bar-stool, ball-game -- televised or 'real-time') -- Engel has thus far related his observations of and experiences with this most dangerous of predators in three books -- Topiary, Cella Fantastik, and I Hope My Corpse Gives You the Plague (the combined international sales of which have reached literally dozens, perhaps as many as seventy, with projected revenue to top three digits by decade's end! Truly a publishing phenomenon). Engel is Associate Editor of Time Capsule Books, a division of Oliver Arts & Open Press, published in limited editions for a tiny, highly specified, though eclectic, target-audience: people who actually read books. He can be reached at adam@new.dissidentvoice.org
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This article was posted on Saturday, August 11th, 2012 at 8:00am and is filed under Poetry.