Cascading chaos of calendric years
Lighting candles for the same false
Furious wake of confusion in the sky
Whirling in circles, Hegel’s rigid dialectic
A shamanic sham; what a shame!
History moves not in a straight line, but revolves
Like the cycles of the seasons
Or some Repogle Globe…
The clashing currents of time
Rain pell-mell on our haloed heads
Who then can tell
The difference between Zeus
and a thunderstorm?
If Gods die when we kill them,
When then will our lifeline end?
Etched like the rings in a tree it remains
Only to be cut down, engulfed in absolving flame.
What to say of that chiaroscuro clash?
I care not for its tedious, swirling ways
I’d rather bring my giant hands
Crashing down from the sky
To rip through telephone wires
Disconnecting lines,
Disuniting the teleology of time
Smashing the last filthy breath of life
From the endless cylindrical vessel
We call histoire: what a story, really!