Thursday, February 14, 2008

parable R

In the Kingdom of Decadence, where indulgence reigns and self-aggrandizement the weathercock of virtue guides, the lepers of sense their jealous rage did leash 'pon unsuspecting proletarian dreams, draining and desaturating symbolism from symbol, meaning from meant.
Babel forthwith her tremulous head did raise, aquiver in apprehension, expectation primed by cryptographic sensuality; a bevy of humpty-dumptyisms, anomalous intensions, swarm the façon de parler of the plebs, scum-drenched street urchin babbling in tongues like holy men, and with the mutant language, visions, themselves mutations of normal thought, a perversion upon the mind's eye.
And inward turned, the gaze of the "I" lit upon the mishapen folds of the language organ, piercing, incising, invigorating its dormant telos, embarrassing its ego, with efficient and sensitive touch, releasing, relinquishing, remanding, and constructing anew syllable, that subtle tempo, the pacemaker of thought: word.

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