Severed B N O W 6 M X K Y n+1 B+1 Q Chapter 43 Z-G fin

k
mR. mR. mURPHY SAID:

i AM ALREADY GOBBLED-up and dead, but may this book be a
festering Chelazion in the Eye of all Wetiko, all judges, all skulls...


PAGE Three ORE BLUE SKIES ANEMONE AND THE
HUMAN TORCH

famous formula of Marx?

Two empty chairs sit next to each other in front of a fire place
made of hot pink marble.....

A man and a woman stand next to each other on the bank of a
stone quarry lake holding up a huge bloody fish beyond them in
the distance the human torch falls from on high like Icarus into the
iridescent waters....

The woman turns to the man and says: "The relationship between
man and woman, the direct, natural, and necessary relation of
person to person, large aggregates, interplay of molecular
elements, its gigantism, inasmuch as these machines are machines;
such a hypothesis founds the omnipotence of a male
homosexuality, or, YETI?"

some time later they lie, exhausted, their bodies satisfied,
sprawled in the grass. Borje caresses her side, she kisses his
penis: small, light, childishly contented kisses.

THEY LIE UPON A WELL-GROOMED SURFACE A SORT
OF TURK OR TURF AND SET IN FRONT OF THEM AS IF
IT WERE A (sort of) SPECIES PLACARD IS A LITTLE
WOODEN SIGN THAT READS:

ANTI-OEDIPUS:
REDUCTION 64%

Above the couple up in the sky.... a huge anemone held aloft by
sacs of gas, like a zaepplin-manOwar full of Port rubescent
unfurling its dreamy tendrils stealing the fish of tourists resisting
the soldiers pushing the little battleships into the MAW of
Neptune. see fig 294.

The man says to the woman: "Bizarre notion, It could be a
thought."
a
The Severed Head, the Medina, and Populux Grangwigglnol...

O connective synthesis of production,
grandmother of lost time,
vibration by springing,
whose sadomasochistic guilt is like a bust of smaragdine
Malachite,
a hornet's nest of throbbing sex-addix,
of contradictions,
of Schizop nebulae/forensis addenda...

Adele: The two newlyweds are buried together. Even death cannot
part them... the dead young bride's dress is displayed in her
parents' home.... But its my home too! The bride's gown is
displayed like a relic to all visitors. But what about me? What can
I do? My eyes are burning.... they hurt so much! I don't want to
look at them.. I don't want to see that trunk under the bed... Get rid
of my sister's clothes! Burn them....give them away. I can't stand
the sight of them! My eyes can't stand them....

Albertine Albertine: Sodom and Gomorra, otherwise known as the
goddess of marriage, Hera, more than any other divinity detests the
wild actions of the god and his female band because these actions
make a mockery of her entire realm.. There, there, dear Adele....


you're the one I'm always dreaming of, I'd walk a million miles..

He had married the heavenly nymph Menaka and set to work right
away on his next production METROPOLIS. Menaka herself
would play a robot goddess whose tickertape vagina spooled out
an endless Sanskrit mantra on digital videotape which was
gathered by blind arachnoid monkeys on hand-carved Coptic
spools which depicted Peter Lorry. Across Menaka's chrome
forehead were etched the words: LIBIDO, you have given them
bread from heaven.

Menaka was wonderful at her structural interpretation of the role, a
tool of patriarchal and capitalist desires, thrust on the world stage
to be adored by Simian Spiders. To be drawn by nude artists,
consummate bohemians shackled to their canvases living in an
imaginary prison of forced ambiguity.

No, you're the one who fails to see the transcendent
symbolism!
Is it daddy?

No, just Joe Stalin smoking a pipe,

reliving visions of her youthly orgasms,
the white dress, that long black hair finer

than any stallions mane, her old
bitch of a mother in the next room looking

at her own wrinkled body in a full
length mirror surrounded with little

humanoid frogs all murmuring

"Urim and Thummin." Joe Stalin,

Hetman of the Cossacks,

holder of the grand

ribbon of the order

of St. George,

the field
marshal's

baton, set

with diamonds

and surrounded
with laurels. Countess

Soltikoff's wound was so

trifling, that she could
leave her bed in a few days,

(he hadn't really meant to hit her hard)

and as she was sitting in her easy chair, wrapped

in her warm furs, for the first time the young girl, Suwarro-with-sensitive-plants came to ask

after her. "You are very pale, may

I crawl between your legs,

dawn the devil's mask

and usher in
a new form

of

economics.....