'I feel and think much as you do, care about many of the things you care about, although most people do not care about them. You are not alone.' Kurt Vonnegut

Tuesday, April 15, 2014


This Wine-press is call’d War on Earth, it is the Printing-Press
Of Los; and here he lays his words in order above the mortal brain
As cogs are formd in a wheel to turn the cogs of the adverse wheel.
(William Blake - The Wine-press of Los)

Chapter 3

1.  Earth is his battleground, a field of crows
With its crop of skulls, fed by blasted flesh,
A no man’s land that history cannot escape
And he wheels his chariot through the mire
Churning blood, crushing bones, calling up,
Recruiting more of the living to replace the dead.

2.  See how his jaws flex on the sinews of soldiers,
And their pace never wavers from the slow march
While shrapnel and ordnance provide the music
For this dance with death: genocide legitimized
By patriotic fervour, a blood-letting entrenched
in glory, built on gravestones of an illustrious past.

3.  The Jagannath revels in the unmitigated power
Invested in the machinery of his creed: Take No
Prisoners, King and Country, Death to the Enemy,
Your Country Needs You – Fight!  He will allow
No white flags, keeps a supply of white feathers
instead, and propagates falsehoods unstintingly.

4.  Thus, we men of Earth, helplessly enthralled, 
Await the call to arms, accept the medal awarded
Posthumously, carve the names of the dead into stone.
He is overseer, consoler of mothers left clasping
Folded flags in place of sons, champion of the departed,
Death’s head grinning beside the newly turned grave.


A further chapter in my Avant Garde project, inspired by the works of William Blake.
Here are links to Chapter 1 - Erzulie and Chapter 2 - Golem to provide context.

Any large, overpowering, destructive force or object, as war, a giant battleship.
Anything requiring blind devotion or cruel sacrifice.
Also called Jagannath. An idol of Krishna, at Puri in Orissa, India, annually drawn on an enormous cart under whose wheels devotees are said to have thrown themselves to be crushed.

Photo credit: Rakesh JV via photopin cc (With some manipulation of the original)

Saturday, April 5, 2014


The ancient Poets animated all sensible objects with Gods or Geniuses, calling them by names and adorning them with the properties of woods, rivers, mountains…
Till a system was formed, which took advantage of & enslav’d the vulgar by attempting to realize or abstract the mental deities from their objects: thus began Priesthood.

William Blake, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, Plate 11

Chapter 2

1.  In the deserts of ingrained solitude
Rose a cult of stone, bred in pain,
Fuelled by the blinding visions of
An earthen man, whose hollow throat
Refused drink, whose skin welcomed
The venomous sting of scorpions.

2.  He summoned a lost following
With his pitchfork imprecations,
Lashing the faithful to their knees
Until they tasted dirt upon their lips
And could read the name of Truth
Inscribed upon his formidable brow.

3.  They laboured until sweat became blood;
While he skulked in the petrified womb,
Weight of the broken mountains impressing
On his unnatural fury, and scored his runes
Into rock face, implacable, all-consumed
By dreams of death by mass suicide.

4.  So the dread Golem taunts fringes
Of consciousness – wherever the psyche
Has been reduced to the bitter dregs
Of self-loathing and will is incarcerated
In penitentiaries of dry bones, he recruits  
His army, ready to die upon his direction.


This is Chapter 2 of an Avant Garde project, based loosely on William Blake's Urizen
Chapter 1 - Erzulie is published below, for those who would be interested in the context. 

My conception of the Golem is loosely based on mythology.

photo credit: Abode of Chaos via photopin cc