Thursday, July 31, 2014


By C. C. Parker

Tethered to the City of the Sun is the eternal chromosome. Unseen while it is both ancient & waiting in the future. Penetrating deep into the roots of churning histories where gold has been dredged from its foundries. Molten guts sloshing with fire & blood, emitting a chain of memory that codifies in its darkest moments . . . Deranged spectres hardening in a meat-furnace as the body grows rancid. Born larvae-like, but eventually taking flight. Enough to break its shell of shit that’s encased them for so long. Dust incinerated in final dawn as the planet slips. Burning. One more look behind as they carry a broken god on their backs. Nearly impossible to reach their destination, but that’s how they’ve survived so long. Physicality both spore-like & metallic to climb through stars. Long periods of sleeping between bouts of pain. Bound to one another in the cosmic freeze. Sharpening their dialectic meaning as they’re both brutish & philosophically charged. Seeds of night & day . . . They didn’t arrive here to conquer it, but to enforce the balance that’s always ensured their longevity. To keep blood pumping through nature’s veins & make sure she’s moist enough to reveal soft-spots in the desert – Tribes & mystics anointing her open plains. Generations to reshape the land into a valley of shrines.

Now, as the old planet shatters & boils, there’s no corner for a plaintive mind. Dilution of the spirit unremitting since before the first citadels were erected. Man hiding from man as the spawn of eras sweep him up. A current of fire swallowing his mind as he tastes blood at the back of his throat. With rage against sickness he feels for closed portals, bloated by inertia & the soundless voice. It is only heard when he’s asleep, buzzing beneath his dream. Nothing he can focus with his thoughts. Deliriums have taken the place of visions. Arrested in throes of death even though he’s still extant. Unable to connect with the essence of his sublimity. In the face of freedom as it is denounced. Self-immolation in the face of dire ignorance . . . Yet, among a fading race, there were those listening with grim defiance. Hidden inside ruins where roads are still paved in gold; inlaid by skulls. Eyeless sockets gaze into burning sky. Blinded by holocaust (to remind them while they’re still here). Sight forsaken by reason & progress – Knowledge of death that’s only capable of transference. Inside charnel winds of memory’s estate. Future looms cold & calculated. Even as wilderness remains uninhabitable & the wound opens up. All secrets, once uncharted, bleed-out & roll back into an ocean of unreceived symbologies.

A golden chain weaving invisibly through plasmic regions. Even if one is falling or waking in his shell. A burning question enters thought making him desperate & desirous of a more atomized way. Realization becomes the ocean he’s always considered to be a sequestered zone. Only gods had access – But he was a god! Holding a scepter in his fist with the head of many beasts. Roiling eyes to gaze down disparate corridors. Not legion, but plenty. All separate, they can easily unify. Drinking from the same cup. Blood on blood. Scintillating in dark a moment before the fire descends. Travelling through space while still entwined in each & every breath. It’s the only way he could ever reach them & why he’s still here. Many others, too, who are no longer susceptible to loney forms – Bathing in soaked orgies. Erogenous salutations as seed is blasted across fields. Erecting pyramids that connect the chain to its source. Nature’s spume coming undone in a galaxy of stars. Where he sits & gazes & strokes the fate of all things.

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C. C. Parker lives in Seattle. A writer of experimental horrors in the mid-to-late 90s & early 2000s. Publishing in such mags as Chimeraworld, Bare Bone & Flesh & Blood, etc . . . Over the past decade he has become increasingly fascinated with the hermetic arts. Alchemy, Gnosticism & the like. Philosophies in sync with how he sees the world. Now, drawing on surrealism, mythology & personal wakefulness. A writer of both medieval & futuristic romances.

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