4 Poems
by Louis E. Bourgeois

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Cannibalism is Conformity

I wake at sunrise to the sound of squealing pigs; outside, an idiot child is eating pig shit and rat meat in a dish of black decaying rice.  Next door, a virgin is being washed in a huge zinc tub; she is being cleansed for a political sacrifice of dubious worth.  Tonight, her loins and buttocks will be served in rich sauces at the Imperial Table.  I do not know what they will do with the rest of her, except that she’ll disappear forever with the rest of the sacrifices—

But before then, I too will fall into a trance, intoxicated with the dinner conversation of Aristotelian logic and Middle Eastern affairs.

 

 

Final Judgment

The children of Dust have grown tired of numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and have taken all numbers and have thrown them into the Abyss, from which they came.  As well, they are utterly irritated with Ancient Knowledge.  They have slaughtered Pan, Apollo, and Dionysus.  They have taken sledge hammers to their temples and reduced them to pebbles.

These children are the Almighty Future and they rightfully demand Clarity, Authenticity, and Truth, even at the expense of Everything that has preceded them.

They will prevail and should prevail.  Let all who get in the way of their progress be burned at the stake.

We have finally arrived at a generation who will make truth stick, even if there are no witnesses left to attest to it.

Amen and amen and amen.   

 

 

Home

I arrived at the house hours before the sun was up and fell asleep in the tall grass of my childhood—someone was whispering to me in monotone éclat, éclat, éclatDieu est éclat, but I was not afraid.  I have never been afraid.  I have never been afraid, but the voice wouldn’t leave me alone and it said further, All the fruit in the orchid is poisoned, and all the flowers are yellow.  How did that happen?  I answered out loud.  I also asked the voice why all my dreams were of blood and crabs and it responded, Because you were born with a divine disease.  I wanted to get up but couldn’t, nothing held me down but my own weight.

When I awoke, the sun was just coming up and the grass had withered all around me and I knew I was in Hell because I was surrounded by tall clocks.

 

 

The Killer

There was a man named Joshua, who wanted to kill the sun and moon.  It was an instinctual response; no line of logic led him to his desires.  It’s just they’re so big and bright and they are superior to us, he thought.  Why should they have the privilege of lording their brilliance over all the earth?

He wasn’t successful at killing the sun and moon.  He could find no way of doing it since they are so far away.  So, Joshua turned his attention to the sea; why should the sea impose all its beauty and mystery on us humble human beings?

And, at least, he could touch the sea, thereby giving him a better chance at destroying it.

Joshua, our poor idiot sauvant, attempted to swallow the sea dry, but he drowned in the process and was washed out with the tide.

We can admire Joshua’s spirit but not his politics.