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Poems by Inchiki



 


Necronomica (extract from a dream)



today, i had a strange illusion, in my dream, a swan came to me and spoke with a bound leather tongue-

lembit aszkrith fugard imkimaka/ whelred infant degarmind rtak /
dank water parted / india seas squirted beyond paramour /
faith healed wigwam / /then opened the book of demonicness
paper seulled with blood /fastigata plantain swithnign

<>

the war is thus:

either the (necronomicon)-(i.e. infinity) exists or it doesn't exist

{n.b. a moment's contemplation of infinity is insanity}

there is an eternal(? some say finite) battle between the forces of finity

and those of the in-finity. finity denies that in-finity exists.

infinity doesn't have to deny anything, for _if_ it (kthulu) exists,

then the finite exists only within it, is part of it.

it does not matter, it is irrelevant even to ask _where_ infinity exists

it can be inside a crack, inside the smallest atom, or at the furthest distance

from here in space and time. wherever it be, it be all-consuming

it is entirely made of mouths

it is entirely made of anything-you-posit

and also entirely-not-made of anything-you-posit

and anything-that-is-never-posited, which can never be posited

it is made entirely of that - [c.f. amor fati]

2

finity is by necessity a frame (the covers of a book)

in-finity lurks everywhere but is nowhere _within_ the frame

its bulk cannot be accommodated there

it is simply "the most burdensome idea" it is of course the most

horrendous thing, whilst being simply a concept

in that concept is the seed to destroy the universe (has already

thus destroyed it countless times, is destroying it now, is

tearing you apart _now_ as you read this word)

the frame is our cot, our armour, our net keeping us safe inside

but the _knowing_ can reveal that we are never safe

all that keeps us sane is that we (_forget_) again and again over and over

this is the true frame, the bookend, our own birth and death

beyond which is the blackness of our forgetting.

<>

these are normal words from a normal person/i hope you like/suchwith the end of days/we will all be medieval (leather) again/nay, grubs in swamps/swans/aye heavenly beings/are even now--this, is the normal grounded state






Mind Spool  2012