Immortal Chortles Post Portal

Brought to you by Saynt crOix and the scribes of hardland/heartland... the story of WildWing vs. Dokter Maximus

It was young wild wing who summoned out of the ward this fluctuating doorway

This psychological post haste, this hot gate, this foxy doorway to other states, wandering like clouds across nether regions of probability

It was the four winds who watched over the proceeding procedures, it was the four elevated mystics who felt the tug in the life field when the portal opened and the atoms started spouting through

It was the four who were and was and is and are and can be and should be and will be who spoke to the sleeping wild wing as his atoms evaporated across aeons and when they spoke, they air broke

Said the first:
I am the north wind and my beard is a sky of shivering plasma and my feet are buried in ghostly caves with secret 1-up items, awaken now from your sleep

Said the second:
I am the east wind and my mustache is the crescent moon and my feet are buried inside a pearl inlaid wardrobe at the bottom of the marina's trench, awaken now from your sleep and sing in your own defense

Said the third:
I am the south wind and my beard is like a magnetic bubble, and my feet shift in and out of phase like serrated knives of lame, awaken now from your sleep and sing in your won defense and in defense of the portal that rents your sense and offers no recompense

And said the forth:
I am the west wind and my mustache and beard are unknown and unknowable, I am the pause after you think, my feet are the forgotten futures now wake up and fight, for Doktor Maximus slouches here tonight!

Doktor Maximus the miser of economic growth eats the skin off you like oven cleaner and shits out money


Doktor Maximus the heifer of death stop me now zombie flower he finds himself saying at night in his bed surrounded by his victims

Doktor Maximus who's network is a brass necked Phalanx of briefcase toting child molesters


Doktor Maximus Illuminated by funerary lights, tallow wax made of human fat shorn and sheared from legs and bellies gristle of ball socket, Achilles tendon, and inner ear


Doktor Maximus who's obsession is flickering cathode rays atrocities beamed from distant cities seen in mind's eye from land beyond the grave

Doktor maximus who's cabinet ministers are jars of bile, drowned viruses whose minds have been switched like a shell game inside of jagged blood thirsty cathedrals

The good Doktor Maximus who's straight, manly spine is a sulfur rod hotter than a thousand suns that boils his smoking flesh and feeds the flies that burrow under his scalp and protect a zone of force and electrical bolts out of his slack, rotten tongue and the empty crusty sockets he stuffs with cow eyeballs to spot his prey

Maximus routed, Wild Wing shouted, portal safely defended all that shit and shinola of culture and history, all those foot bindings and face strap dildo masks of nations and shoulder yokes of race, held tight with bungees and dirty woodscrews was finally in the past, and good riddance to bad rubbish. Just a memory of entombed crusaders screaming you assholes I'm diplomatic personnel

Just a memory of fearful voyages of discovery climaxed in absurd orgies of blood and banditry

Just a memory of arrogant republics draped in the shins of the inferior, neutered slave drones, cracked fingers lifting concrete misters to heaven on scabbed shoulders

Just a memory noxious dragons of economic determinism shitting and puking under the assault of reason, executing millions in moon death spasm's

Just a memory hulking dead things policing the workplaces of slums of disgorged imagination, arrows raining through storm doors, salt tears and salt blood running together on linoleum in final moments of uncomprehending interrogation

Just a memory so this guy I work with tells a story about how in the war his unit interrogated a person and after they were finished they told him to run, and the guy takes off running, tripping over half buried rocks and for a laugh the unit unslings their guns and shoot his ass dead. Chuckle chuckle and he tells you , you know what was cool was that an M-60 tripod mounted machine gun is so powerful, it actually chewed him in half at the torso, shiny pink and grey wet guts everywhere sprayed bright red. and now this guy is a meat cutter by trade, where before he was just a butcher buy that's entertainment.

Just a memory Just a memory all that backbreaking bear baiting and brain-boiling all that spine sucking shivsnaking and sheepshniveling all that fricking of shrubbery and salivating of caterpillar moss all that gross domesticity all that coincidental decapitation, all that invasive flush and chill of livers and stomachs packed tight with pebbles all that see saw and geegaw core reactor max factor beam tractor lord and master engine running hotter faster than bone retractro light wave refractor sawtooth spruce goose pterodactyl all that shit and junk and piss and fuck all that toe the line counting. Time cabinets make of oak and pine. I was gone. Nothing left
but fruit and vine wind and wine touching face that touches mine rock and heat and sand and spray and space and blazing places setting off the light illuminating the faces of time, trickling off drop by drop line by line setting off the light, illuminating the four bearded faces of time.