Spirit Speaketh Press

Spirit Speaketh Press is a collection of communications from Nestor Mole Eye.

Contact the device generator : : > mail

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The Celsius Movie Project 17499

After the next winter appears we would like
to use these poems as codes of information
As a place to take housewives in Virginia
when they're looking up from the very stillness
of their fluorescent lamps

Billiam in Pikewealth Town played with his racecar
until he was grown up and went to college
At Stanford they have a nice artificial intelligence
program that takes us way out of here
into the Pizza Hut on a Friday night
And it more or less has the same chemical pattern
as LSD

Looking back from the spaceship

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sacrifice Ye Ancestoroid

Run 'round the rotunda brother.

Run 'round the rotunda mother.

I will bash both your heads in,
the both of you,

while you're running 'round that rotunda,
mother and brother
clouds talk electronically

the King Makers and the King Killers
lined up all around the rotunda.

You worship on both sides of time,
worshipping, worshipping, worshipping.

Worshipping the whiteness of the light,
the whiteness of stone,
the smell of mineral or concrete,
lemon scented candles,
white cotton sheets.

The Aztecs were dumped sideways off the sun
like bugs.

They were macerated in the Spring
when it's like Summertime there.
My telegram to the county commissioner
standing by the church right now
said:

"O, my brother and mother are dead.
I've killed them
in the Spring when it's like Summertime
ten o'clock yesterday morning,
they were the walking dead,
the bait fisters . . . the bait fisters!

I'm sorry but I cannott fix this
with their knees twisted backwards and broken in time,
the bloody time they broke with their damn bait fisting
walking away."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A Coy And Playful

My blood stomps harder on the jade wine,
I go to work on assembly lines,
I sing the song “O Capitalism”,
to make it with your daughter
in fashionable penance.

I forged a ring from my blood slime,
stopped what I eat to get the thin shine.
My calcium was low, protein wasn’t right.
Can I dip into your machine,
Master God?

Possess what you can in your real lives.
Eat value meals, or eat dikes.
Cows in the field chew the utter ripe,
Los Estados Unidos essay kinda neato.