Boards
I Am La Monte Moreau
(not Damo Suzuki)
In the auditive misty medium of the piercing cry
make loop of feedback and howl overwork amplifier,
like the obturator of objective, eyes are closed,
spirit dilating in the sharp expansion,
motionless body in the darkness,
dimensions of the face fractal are twisted and contorted
by Alice in the syndrome and the country of the wonders.
She whispers to disorientate direction in this play of revelation
where I go each manner, private with the visions evolutionary,
where forms melt and yield and run in a lightshow liquid of lava,
cinema subconscious more schizophrenic sound track.
Language illustrated, induced by ingestion,
reinventing space cuttings colourfully,
attributes in the random free form,
a diversion of eating memory,
a report in the world which reads "detune!"
a meeting with the large goddess, the architect,
who whispers wistfully the vague heats of the love,
flood my eye of spirits with the forms fluctuating
of an individually-projected picturesque dissolution of spirit.