UNIVERSE & EON

Universe

(Tarot, Major Arcana XXI.)

Beginning and end are the same. (Squirming cave opening

       its mouths steaming…)

              Source. (A dead bat in the barrel of Silanus.)

              The Ancient Score. (The bitter, the salty,

the sour, the sweet…)

It can only be described negatively. We know what is not That.

       It’s a mystery beyond our perception.

Beggars chasing their swinging tails, breaking wheel dance

              of the limbs,

ecstatic dervish spin is the designated stable point

       around the axis

until the soothing collapse that was lied to be freedom.

Pro-creators begetting pro-creators,

                     birth givers begetting birth givers:

marked cards in a deck…

       The career of the anthropoid

looks like ridiculous compulsive neurosis from the outside,

              a series of constant, stereotypical motion.

              And when it’s meant to be released,

it rose from holy death,

                     then comes the dogcatcher,

smacks him on the scruff, and his pupil

       cries with shapeless face again

and the scaled, bony, slimy, cool violin with a broken neck

       starts neighing again.

 Eon

(Tarot, Major Arcana XX.)

                                   Initially, the beginning seemed closed,

       the serpent bit its own tail... Now, opportunity

                     drifting fateless.
       Close to certainty, the answer is no longer clear.
              Amorphous drops of wax on the wrinkled, pink
       crepe-paper: the puppet's wax flows...
A balancing plunge on the edge a peeling message
Dirty green parasite-coating,

Emperor Domitian poking caught insects,
       sticky abdomen substance on the quill.
                      Gilles de Rais chanting dirty rhymes
in the ears of fat brats, writhing and whimpering.

Only the acceptable           
       work where the structure explodes (the supports and other handholds
are just sneaky traps of interpretation).
              The artist is a Dual God: the manifesting Ra-Hoor-Khuit,
       and the hiding Hoor-Pa-Krat. 

       The wind’s yanking a ragged "Jolly Roger"
(elongated, artificially distorted skull,
              a cauldron’s foaming from below, the marks are
                     self-sufficient and indecipherable,).
The slimy wreck of a ship is grinning on the beach. The islanders(a sophisticated, degenerated species, close to extinction) are
       watching all the arrivals from the steaming marshes.
Midgard is dead, so is the gas-masked Fenris... the broken reeds

would love to smile, "ashen jasmine leaves..."
- the poet sings again wildly.  

by Laszlo Aranyi

(Translated by Gabor Gyukics)

Laszlo Aranyi (Frater Azmon) poet, anarchist, occultist from Hungary. Earlier books: (szellem)válaszok, A Nap és Holderők egyensúlya . New: Kiterített rókabőr. English poems published: Quail Bell Magazine, Lumin Journal, Moonchild Magazine, Scum Gentry Magazine, Pussy Magic, The Zen Space, Crêpe & Penn, Briars Lit, Acclamation Point, Truly U, Sage Cigarettes Magazine, Lots of Light Literary Foundation, Honey Mag, Theta Wave, Re-side, Cape Magazine, Neuro Logical, The Daily Drunk Mag, Unpublishable Zine, Melbourne Culture Corner, Beir Bua Journal, Crown & Pen, Dead Fern Press, Coven Poetry Journal, Journal of Erato, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Spillover Magazine, Punk Noir, All Ears (India), Utsanga (Italy), Postscript Magazine (United Arab Emirates), The International Zine Project (France), Swala Tribe Magazine (Rwanda). Known spiritualist mediums, art and explores the relationship between magic.