Book of the Fallen Blood Moon

NOTE: Book of the Fallen Blood Moon is just a writing experiment in the WSB cut-up method. 

I had started a surrealistic story about a young girl in a green boat outside of cultural categories of reality and ended up hating it and decided to cut the page into two parts and tape it back together and re-write it and consequently started to like parts of it. Still not done, here is part 7 and 8. Don't look for any deep meaning because there is none.... 

Book of the Fallen Blood Moon

Chapter 8: Return of the Eagle

And in your heart all over the cold city, and the swing and the moon you loved and cried out to

When she broke, when she broke and the hollow park called out to sweet death from that place

Fallen black wings and horns and the many cigarettes and the night’s light’s all around you

The ancient overgrown cemetery watching the thousands come and go, smoking and crying out

From the darkness and one day that just faded and her illusion reappeared to take away your pain

But it never did, it never does, and the pain and the pressure to be loved grew and gnawed away

And then the pattern was seen and eventually she was someone else, always out of reach

So we make do and fool ourselves with words again and again and again, pigeons with swords

And then you never even noticed it happening but it happened, it happens if you persevere

And it captured something inside of yourself and faded away into you

Looked for and always there floating away out of reach is the way it has always worked

And now she is never seen and never lost having become one with you, the angel and her violin

Her hand extended towards yours over the still water, staying into the dusk with the loons

But still out of reach of the little green boat; floating, shimmering, living in the silver water

Of waves ever-present, complex and tangled, intermingled with the thoughts we believe in

Into her mind where the cars fell up mountain water and fire burned in a ball of blue flame

Her hand streaked through the air and landed on a beam of blue bird, sailing away with time

Long yellow tail feathers trailing exotic and iridescent, cutting paths in the ancient woods

She was fiery hard smooth brown wood without scratches, like moss and eons of flowers

And she became eagle flying far above the ground, free & unmade from all human creations

The eagle flew into the clouds and disappeared and in its place emerged one of the furies

She hated all men and her fierce yellow eyes burned with hatred and contempt for all things

From above they paraded their ugly arrogant heads, symbols born aloft and the blood would pool

She would swoop down and carve a deep red gouge in their lives with delight and scream last

While they ran around squawking in true mortal fear of the truth and it spilled into their eyes

And she would laugh and know unless opposed, they would turn her world to ruinous ashes

And she would fly onto the deep forest green last, blind and crying out helplessly like babies

Filling their ears and luring them to the edge of the precipice grass and whisper like a friend

And into their human hands against the cool lava of empty space until they floundered in blood

Flapping and waving their arms about and screaming into a black abyss crawling with gravity

And its black hand would reach up and pull them into annihilation, blotted out by yellow light

She always took out the guilty first and left the bugs to devour them

and they deserved it

and she left the innocent to die by their own hand or be ravaged by the goddess bitch of time