Fuckin' Rimbaud: an appreciation in neurotic

 





Once upon a time, somewhere in Orient; a priest-king there was.

In constant nightmares he slept: his sleep was uneasy

he dreamed of revolutions of the life, feats of love; amazements always new

I explain: he dreamed with the triumph of the instinct, the essential impulses, good or terrible.

 
The dear prudence and the voluptuous pity abandoned him, I explain.


 



His authority absolute was, and he began making war to the 111 kings of the province.

His army invincible was, and he wasn't a fool, during his years of sanity.


Strangely tamed beasts, holy whores and sordid eunuchs, there were on the Ëarth, yet.

Languid-scornful troubadours, and columns of gold there were on the Eärth, yet.




And the pheasant.





...And how does the ballad continue..?]



















...In his melancholy, the king used to...




jump over the mob, cimeter in hand; shattering people, destroying them in pieces, enraged.



All his chamberlains and chambermaids were minced and devoured in eleven banquets of horror and silence, eleven.


All his concubines were turned into aromatic powder, and smoked.

 
Everybody returned; nobody returned.





In the crazy jactitation of his heart, the king used to promenade by his terraces, shattering and torturing bêtes de luxe, like the golden monkeys from the rainy jungles, the horse-men of Sagittarius and the gorgeous tiger of India.

Talking monkeys there were yet, on the Ëarth.

No-one died. All died.
























One evening...
while the king was raving and shouting *through jungles topographically unknown*, 3 tall apparitions in deep blue met him suddenly.
...Their contexture was pure effluvium of love; an incomprehensible löve, multiplicator and phenomenal.


...And how does the song go on..?]









The apparitions possessed the kïng; the king possessed the apparitions: in the essential satisfaction, they four annihilated themselves, I explain:

they died.

Nobody died.

Everybody died.












...Though the king died at his age of insanity; the king was the apparitions, the apparitions were the king.

The apparitions-the king, the king-the apparitions.








Does offend the excessive sincerity our ears.