End, oh end of all we know. End of all the pretty words and kind acts. End to the sweat of billions of the anonymous men and women. End of aqueducts and massive stadiums, end of the end yet the totality of it rolls on, black, without mercy, on and forgetful even of the poor experiment as it was often called.

"We have only seen the beginning of our killing days," an old woman was saying. "It will become a daily wish and faces we are familiar with will vanish in a moment."

So our pathos had reaches this level and we were not near the end, not even close.

We had a rather pathetic and stubborn brain and hoped for the best. After all, there was beauty left in the beast somewhere, we were certain of it. Not all of them had penetrated the pathetic facts of the matter and lived as unconsciously and happily as herdsman in North Africa at the time of Hannibal. A herd was more valuble that a world. Not only that they believed that worlds came and went, that the gods were generous and permitted life to continue but only if they could destroy it first; that was the contract and it seemed to have a permanent niche in the scheme of things.

And who was to say that the destruction to the world was not a good thing? Perhaps it was a violent show of how stupid we were for waiting for us, after the deed, would be all we knew in a happy state, flying freely from world to world. And even then we would be told that a greater place existed and that our new freedom would become a boreedom after awhile.

"Ah, it was a game after all!" A few of the spirits thought this to themselves but didn't dare say anything since the game was still on and they needed the information to improve their chances of moving on.

The feeling of yellow blasting through the sullen skin.

He woke under a tree in a nice meadow filled with white flowers.

He had dreampt. A boiling sea of many hues was surging below him and he was walking along an abyss, on the side of a mountain or so it appeared. Every step he took made it apparent to him that to continue forward was a mistake, the surest way to die like a coward and not resolving anything. But to throw himself into the abyss may prove to be hazardous as well and painful; he hated pain so!

He felt not only the urge to go on but to go on with greater mastery, to go on with the beautiful generations inside of him, with the belief that things only got better in the face of doom.

Things to do:

• Get the word count up to 10,000 or so
• REMEMBER THE MYTH----one side of the polarity.
• Make it poetic, not preachy--- use the base to transform into the rich and strange.
• This is not a plan to escape the horrors of nuclear war. It is the poetic sensibility confronting the nature of nuclear war and the presence of nuclear weapons and the belief that more weapons will come out of science that will be even more destructive.
• Some attempt at the recovery out of the bone-chilling fear, the demoralization and shit brought in by the knowledge that these things exist, etc. Yes, there are positive signs in the notes, toward the back.

4090 words to this point

Back to Top
Back to Home