Notes From The Book Of The Tall Slit Eye

by Shaun Lawton

Just over two hunnerd an' seventeen by a crooked shenanigained

mile I'd reckon were the vespers of the winterbreds I've come

across throughout my journeys over and about these Northlands

minding ye that ye wished I weren't there to prove it but I was.

And the stars that called out and pushed us all are still here to

reckon it, I'm a-feared. But they won't talk, nor whisper, not so's

you'd unnerstand 'em, see. Not here, not in graveyards; that's not

their business today nor in this particular quadrant of the globe.

I've done read and been told they've matters elsewhere foremost

along their shores of interpenetration, let me assure all of ye right

now.  But hithermost netherwas the backleast of a matter to me

when just the hide of it was always at stake and in the running.

And what would you know of the wind's goings and comings,

much less the stars'-? Next to nary a nothing, I'd wager in a

heartbeat and even the most primitive back lot.  Do ye really

care for a world lit up in orange flame shadows flickering from

discarded fifty-five gallon barrels of crude? Because that's rude.

Now the wick in a fallout's shelter hooded and crucibled for the

surviving excommunicant slave drone tribes of the fallen generations

from X and beyond (otherwise known as that period and cluster

burgeoning from the post-generational excess of the nineties)

and from heretowither withall anon and among us today a frenzy of

however whichway you'd care to re-member it for yourselves

appears not to be the matter at hand in this ongoing narrative woven

from the moment encircled by furrowed whorls in a relevant series

of fingering gestures passing over parchment like a player piano's

digital articulations cloaked in tautly pulled skin.

Understand a few things of this ongoing story, first there has never

been a proof undertaken on the wings of chance that balanced out

into the equation necessary to provide evidence in our world that

such a relation ship even exists in the first place, what does this do

for the fatalist today locked horns with science over the battlefield

of a holy war on terror (to say even less of the dreamer)?

Here we are the frozen elite cadre of dragons, manipulated not by

any  mysterious telekinetic force (unless you wish to consider fear

itself such) so begin to capitulate this:  the very sight of its enraptured

noticing of such a unique individual as you is enough to pinpoint

its narrowest pupils into slits by which their demons may step

through, a matter of hyperthermal dynamics too complex to really

get into here, suffice it to say a dragon doesn't breathe lightning

for nothing.  Humans are sentient vestigial organisms stranded out

in the open today and left behind in the dragon's wake.

Electroplasmic smoke rings we slowly shed by twirling our heads

and relaxing drift away and evaporate with an electric crackle

sounding faintly beneath layers of fleshy tissue like a bug zapper,

something once referred to in various  different sets of terminologies,

from yoga to Zen meditation, as a practice where you shift gears

and get to the drift of the sake of the center of nonbeing itself,

what a relief from sensation, is that our ultimate destination and

how long will it wait?  I have other things to contemplate. 

Like how to stay alive for as many generations as possible

helping our kid's generation get through to the next level

of human progress, shedding coils of psycho electric internal

lightning has purified any voltage I may have left behind from

immersion.  Of course the Other Side is incomparably and

indecipherably nontransmutagenic, that is to say incapable

of remaining in any way sustainable according to our mortal

scale of comprehension, what need do we have for it with this. 

There happen to exist psychic depths past which any undiscovered

deep dwelling species may venture, presumably elder survivors

from pre archaic aeons yet to venture forth from their hidden

sleep deep underneath the blankets of cold waters we hold with

our somewhat febrile awe as those of the pacific and atlantic

and indeed all such oceans in between together interlacing

to form our great planet's salt rich water supply coruscating

from the deepest oceanic trenches yet to be fully explored

by an unsuspecting humanity having harbored that evolved

intelligence awaiting underneath and so much more advanced

than we could possibly have anticipated, it's a matter of much

amusement for future generations of onlookers surpassing

in every way that most ancient and ever lasting luck of the

forgotten gods the primavera nocturna, that is the nocturnal

spring, which is to suggest the ever continuing revolution

we who dwell on solid land have taken for granted as merely

day and night, and by which yet remains almost dissipated

entirely but for several evaporating droplets containing within

themselves a teeming utopia of sub-molecular organisms inter-

dependent of one another trapped in their limited vacuole of

cramped atmospheric regulation generated by automatonic

responses long ago programmed into each and every one of

us involved in the process of handing down for the next carrier

the written expression of documenting our mutual feelings as to

how this transmutational orthodoxy maintained evolutionary

dominance in a rapidly expanding world of interleaved national

conflicts pressing collateral issues to trigger new and unexpected

reactions becoming gelled into the super-static electronic layout

of our commodity exchanged virtual reality real estate bonds

certification documenting and insuring our citizenship by

establishing a mutually declared Actualization cross-authorized

by higher level administrative personnel and up, and who have

somehow set it so that if you or anyone you know is reading this

far auto-magically it triggers consent and personal authorization

into the permanent digital hard driven record filed in unalterable

lock down to be used against you in a future court of law

to be determined randomly by computer when time has run

out its preprogrammed due course (established in 'Nineteen

from Googlobe associates, Inc.) all due repercussions as well

as insufferable slightest suggestions otherwise to the pre-

Established condition of effortless living become banded by

committee until we unprofesorially agree to dictate a response

written on behalf of educators everywhere, expressly forbidding

having endured the alteration of a past which never begot

a single dew drop of one invisible human soldier replicated

by millions in a down pour of humanitarian storming the

likes we have never possibly seen since our inceptions here.

Despite being merely vestigial forms of the original Tall Slit Eye

human beings such as ourselves have enjoyed the most massive

and successful hypnosis campaign as to have ever been wielded

upon any sentient species, this appears to be the case because 

the legend lasered into the brass plaque says so, right there along 

the twisted hallway of the Museum of Freaks on this inter-cosmic 

web treadmill operating incessantly due to the mindless fingering 

of one hundred billion robotic slaves misunderstood universally 

as drones, ladies and gentle extensions of a permanent plague on 

the face of the deep itself, seers and criers and thinkers and drinkers

believers and spyers, naysayers and critics and those would offer

apologetics, escapist fanatics of historical fictions woven by

dreamers possessed of the Serpent's intertwining tongues

woven into a hissing narrative spitting upon the pages of history

an alternate take of a possible reality now you tell me which

is the one you'd rather believe, what already happened ugly

scarred ready to be forgotten or a simple straightforward story

that captures the draught of sorrow and healing, joy and pain.

Never to be remembered by the rest of them again. Think on it.

The reason these lines translate into a voice so to speak may be

explained easily enough.  When a human being visualizes text

upon the page or pixillated screen, whichever the case may be,

their brain processes the language and clarifies it into a sort of

voxualization, if you will, that is, we readers literally hear in our

mind's ear the sentences we see with our eyes.  This is how I

may speak to you in complete silence.  Herewith may be

achieved the feat of deeper resonance, as the silence of mind

we keep equals the distance into eternity we sleep, and the

depths we may reach during rapid eye movements explore

the parameters (and establish the boundaries of) that which

we are even capable of discovering in terms of satisfying

our nomadic need to pioneer new territories of the realm.

Re:alm.   Here is a key term requiring redefinition in the sense

which we normally have come to understand the meaning. 

In essence we are the substance of the trinity, which is to say

this very sentence itself is the snake so to speak comprised

of twenty-two scales some of which have fallen off and others

being added on throughout the course of humanity's career

careening on a trajectory wholly out of control for as long

as any being alive today could possibly remember. 

We live in a realm of pity and mercy because it has been spared

for us to dwell upon, until further notice.  This should by all

means necessary be construed by the current global inhabitants

as that which we all should remain grateful for above all other

priorities we have come to establish as the spiritual rituals

of our lives, in other words we should worship fear itself only

if we come to completely understand it.   Showing once again

how our mutual ignorance and not just individuality continues

to assuage our nervous systems chemically with sedatives. 

We can no longer begin to imagine ourselves.   We emerged

from the surface of water as if from a mirror.  Just take a look

at our mutual Rorschach Stare.  What do you see in there? 

Nothing but a manifestation of a flowering that has been

constantly undergoing developmental changes since the

primordial prototype "so to speak" which is rendered best

by the positively charged series of characters originally

captured for the posterity of our mutual comprehension

known today as the 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet,

from which our language was derived yet by virtue of

utilizing these digits of scripture we were able to reach out

and appropriate phraseology from as many foreign languages

as we cared, all of this due to the inescapable admission

that it's not languages that are different from each other per se,

but rather it is we the flesh and blood articulation of the word

which ultimately stand out (so to speak) on this isolated

peripheral outpost to have our voice echo into deteriorated

silence vacuumed into oblivion between the cold distances

amid our gone lost host of spoken stars silenced long ago.