I
I nearly died in mystically memorable Fujicolor
On Friday, February Twenty-fifth, 1999 Anno Domini,
Experiencing, seeing evil entities, followed by Saint Thérèse of Lisieux,
Saint Benedict, and the most dazzling,
Profoundly pulsating,
White cross being alive with heavenly luminosity,
Before my ashen complexion took on the paleness of some spectre.
(This reverberates within my elephantine memory:
A flashback of Théophile Gautier's Le spectre de la rose...)
II
Standing en pointe like Rudolf Nureyev, I chose
YESHUA'S BEATIFIC BACIO OF BLISS,
While all around me, fifty furiously frenzied Furies hellishly hiss
Like sixty-six rabid rattlesnakes; however, hierophantic haloes
Remain remarkably preferable to those sinister, Stygian shadows!
III
I shall soon lie down on a silken, celestial canopy bed
Of divine dreams on some satin sheet royally ruby-red,
The sweet smell of African violets wafting in the Spanish villa
Of osmosis, and apocalyptically ataraxic ambrosia!
IV
Jubilant jasmine jazz rejuvenates one's soul
After cotton candy clouds glide across the whole,
Azure firmament on a splendidly sunny Sunday
In the imminent, early April, where ships sail away
On Lake Ontario, or near the Mediterranean Sea,
Before breakfast in breathtaking NAPOLI!
The Tuscan sun radiates spring's warmly renascent life
After the dreary, definitely mild, wild winter, splitting strife
In incisive shards of origami orchid petals
F
a
l
l
i
n
g;
Like exotically silent, dying, pink flamingos on Vitality's
Beloved ARIES' LOVE BREEZE,
Now, and forevermore, my magnificent Muse
Rather robust whose particular personality platonically,
Exuberantly, exotically fuses -fascinating rhythms devoid of any ruse-!
V
I am NOT Noriega, nor do I wish to become either some Mossad spy,
Or else, some strange soldier barbarically butchering an acute alibi!
VI
Yes, indeed, I do expect ecstatic exultation
At the quintessential beginning of the spring season,
Juggling, juxtaposing jasper, jujubes, joy
Like an adult child playing with some futuristic, rainbow-reflecting toy!
VII
No, I do NOT expect the raucously ruthless rabble
To make some supernatural sense of this razzle-dazzle,
Polydimensional poem betwixt boldest bravura,
And astonishing, creative genius semantically spreading sizzling synesthesia!
VIII
Rejoice,
Cosmos with the spiritually significant REX RESURRECTUS, Enrico
Caruso's operatic voice,
And the distinguished elegance of ultimate choice,
For here, I foresee a person wearing Jean Paul Gaultier's guipûre-
Trimmed, flare legs trousers, and a matching, flamboyantly fuchsia pink lace
shirt arriving on the Côte d'Azur
In a golden Rolls-Royce for a gastronomic lunch at a fashionably outdoor café.
(I am allowed to dream in fantastic verse, I dare say!)
IX
My mystically aureated, attuned mind will win this difficult race,
The harrowing, hectic marathon of existence at a breakneck pace,
This tumultuous tempo being that of apocalyptic acceleration
Reaching Mach 137 in four petty picoseconds in this terminally godless
generation...
X
I refuse to compute like tomorrow's killing kamikazes on the Internet,
Since I am acutely aware of Faustian, federal felons'
Mephistophelean machinations, and apocalyptically abominable assassinations
Being nefarious, nanotechnological, colossally callous conspiracies in a
world-wide, dangerous dragnet.
XI
I shall soon ascend with an army of opalescent, articulate angels
On Jacob's lavender ladder, experiencing many miraculously mirthful marvels
As I climb every serenely anticipated rung in paradisiacal peace,
Before THE SOVEREIGN LORD OF LORDS wishes me to tacitly decease!
Sunday, March Nineteenth, 2000 Anno Domini
