A FEVERISH FABLE

A delirium maintained will sprain your brain
a lasting illusion amidst the confusion is the only way
to fool yourself into thinking you're not insane
what tools do you use to build your ruse with ?

I seen so many fools led down that path
hell I was their pied piper do the math.

They lied to me, now I'm a word sniper.
I'll leave a bloodbath of old fables behind me

The linen these stories are written on
not worth a dirty diaper
grow up, use your mind,
leave language behind

she said to me and I'll follow her
into the sunsets ever after
where the echoes from this beautiful disaster
sound hollow, my respect goes creeping

on tiptoes to follow
as a gecko slips past
the shadow of a branch
like a sundial angling slowly
away from the dusk
an upthrust column
of stone serves to shelter
us temporarily from the sweltering musk
we breathe in these fevers from constantly
these seething feelings we've learned to trust
always haunting us, haven't we had enough
of these ghosts of our own devising
or are we merely addicted to the notion
of our own fancies each day rising?

Now everybody knows words don't exist
do you suppose the point's been missed?
I propose language itself exists only in our imagination
think about that and get back, what it means to me
is that everything real is by definition unimagineable

Because even the word real is but a figment
another pigment of the shading for something which
there are only shadows of words fading fast
we all know they won't last and we can surmise

that all words used to disguise the truth
if gathered together would amount to a fraction
of a feather of the whole of reality
fully on display before we arrived on the scene

wordless in all its magnanimous glory
here in the story lies the very secret
to the enigmas posited by Zeno and Kant

as Borges conjectured that
"we have dreamt the world"
by observing Novalis having memorably written
"the greatest magician would be the one
who would cast over himself a spell so complete
that he would take his own phantasmagorias
as autonomous appearances,
would not this be our case?"

and then Jorge Luis elaborated further by stating
"we have dreamt it as firm, mysterious, visible,
ubiquitous in space and durable in time;
but in its architecture we have allowed
tenuous and eternal crevices of unreason
which tell us it is false",
I in turn am moved to observe
that we have merely interpreted the world

and in order to untie these lovely philosophical knots
it becomes helpful to realize Novalis's statement
may be refuted by replying "indeed it would not be our case fully
for what you have posited is an imagination borne
of an underlying imagination; what becomes helpful for magic
is the undoing of our original imagining, language itself."

It may have only seemed
that way because we perceived
it to be a labyrinth when it might just be
a singularity of which we, by necessity,
appear to be only parts, so here
is reflected the disease of our hearts,

That of considering ourselves
or anything for that matter as parts
of a whole when in fact
the nature of the singularity
refutes this. Here it is shown
how we must unlearn
what was formerly known

and just why the keys to truth's locks
always seem to lie in paradox
a delirium maintained
to the very end
like the lasting
illusion of
a true
friend
and
to
pre
vent
any con
fusion by
that I mean
to say take a look
around you today