Thursday, May 21, 2009

ASSASSIN by Harry Crosby

Courtesy of my friend Satanica!

"This is directly from his book which is long out of print and impossible to get unless you find it in a special collection. It is impossible to find the true form of this on the web. (all spelling is as in the book). Please feel free to distribute!"




Assassin
by
Harry Crosby

(voici le temps des assassins)
Rimbaud


I

Constantinople on the Seventeenth of the month of Ramadan.
It is cold and late at night winter darkness with a cold hard wind
hurricaneing across the Bosphorus. Harsh sleet of snow. The
windshield is caked with frost except for the square where I have
rubbed the frost off with my hand. My fingers are stiff with cold.
We have crossed the bridge from Peira into Stamboul. At the
cross-streets the arc-lamps stare sharp and hard like harlots. Walls
on our left loom dark and menacing. We pass under an arch
guarded by a red lantern. We are outside the walls. There is a
feeling of emptiness like a night at the front during the War. A
sharp turn over cobblestones the jarring of brakes and we are
climbing out shivering into the wind. It is even colder than be-
fore and the ground is hard as rock. Stark telegraph poles stand
behind us. We are standing before an enormous tent. A call and a
sharp answer and a hand tearing open the flap as the wind tears
out a strip of camouflage. We bend down and enter the tent. It is
monstrous in size and there are shadows cast from the large oil
lamp swinging from the tent pole. Around this tent pole Kurd
shepherds in a dark circle are slowly stamping their feet
in the hard ground to the harsh discord of a drum. Silent men
squat on their heels. There are no women. I crouch down with
the eaters of hashish. An angular hand offers e a small square of
hard green paste. I bite into it. It has a dry irritant taste. I finish
it as I watch the intense circle never stopping always measured
and controlled pounding on the ground to the harsh discord of
barbaric rhythm. And again the angular hand and again the
eating of hashish. Towards four in the morning we leave the
shepherds dancing and go into the raw darkness and
drove back to the hotel. I remember only the wind because it was
hard as stone.

II

The word Assassin is derived from the Arabic Hashishin,
from Hashish, the opiate made from the juice of hemp leaves.
When the sheik required the services of an Assassin the Assassin
selected was intoxicated with the hashish. It is of interest to note
that the effect of hashish is not instantaneous as is the case with
cocktails or cocaine but its effect is much more violent and of a
much longer duration. The effect of this drug- it is much
stronger when eaten than when smoked- is to produce mega-
lomania ( a form of insanity characterized by self-exaltation) in
its most violent form.
In this poem the Sun-Goddess, or Mad Queen as I shall call
her, has replaced the Sheik and I am the Assassin she has chosen
for her devices. She has intoxicated me with the hashish and I
await her command.

III

The Mad Queen commands:
"Murder the sterility and hypocrisy of the world, destroy the
weak and insignificant, do violence to the multitude in order
that a new strong world shall arise to worship the Mad Queen,
Goddess of the Sun.

IV

I see my way as swords
their rigid way
I shall destroy.

V

Vision
I exchange eyes with the Mad Queen


the mirror crashes against my face and
bursts into a thousand suns
All over the city flags crackle and bang
fog horns scream in the harbor
the wind hurricanes through the window
and I begin to dance the dance of the
Kurd Shepherds

I stamp upon the floor
I whirl like dervishes


Colors revolve dressing and undressing
I lash at them with my fury
stark white with iron black
harsh red with blue
marble green with bright orange
and only gold remains naked

Columns of steel rise and plunge
emerge and disappear
pistoning in the river of my soul
thrusting upwards
thrusting downwards
thrusting inwards
thrusting outwards
penetrating

I roar with pain

black footed ferrets disappear into holes
the sun tattooed on my back
begins to spin
faster and faster
whirring whirling
throwing out a glory of sparks
sparks shoot off into space
sparks shooting into stars shooting stars collide with comets

Explosions
Naked Colors Explode
into
Red Disaster

I crash out through the
window naked, widespread
upon a
Heliosaurus
I uproot and obelisk and plunge
it into the inkpot of the
Black Sea
I write the word
S U N
across the dreary palimpsest
of the world
I pour the contents of the
Red Sea down my throat
I erect catapults and
lay siege to the cities of the world
I scatter violent disorder
throughout the kingdoms of the world
I stone the people of the world
I stride over mountains
I pick up oceans like thin cards
and spin them into oblivion
I kick down walled cities
I hurl giant firebrands against governments
I thrust torches through the eyes of the law
I annihilate useums
I demolish libraries
I oblivionize skyscrapers
I become hard as adamant
indurated in solid fire
rigid with hatred

I bring back the wizards and the sorcerers
the necromancers
the magicians
I practice witchcraft
I set up idols
with a sharp-edged sword
I cut through crowded streets
comets follow in my wake
stars make obeisance to me
the moon uncovers her
nakedness to me

I am a harbinger of a
New Sun World
I bring the Seed of a
New Copulation

I proclaim the Mad Queen

I stamp out vast empires
I crush palaces in my rigid
hands
I harden my heart against
churches

I blot out cemeteries
I feed people with the
stinging nettles
I resurrect madness
I thrust my naked sword
between the ribs of the world
I murder the world!

VII

I the Assassin chosen by the Mad Queen I the Murderer of the
World shall in my fury murder myself. I shall cut out my heart
take it into my joined hands and walk towards the Sun without
stopping until I fall down dead.

VIII

I have cut out my heart and I am walking forwards towards the
Sun I am faltering I am falling down dead


IX

Antidote to Common Poisons. Call the physicians at once.
Give the antidote in good quantity. For hashish cold douches;
ammonia inhaled; artificial respiration : stimulants; watch cir-
culation and respiration; keep patient awake.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Happy Birthday, William!

Haiku (March, 2009)

Soulon did not meet
the birth month of one founder.
Celebration missed!

Saturday, January 31, 2009

found poetry

I just came across this bit of "found poetry" given to me via cell phone after my Hippodrome performance last year, by Steve Dandois and Skylaire, who were so cool to be there for me and support me on that crazy bus!!! Anyway, after my performance, they wandered off into the Artwalk evening, and later called me to give me this bit of poetry they had found as they wandered, because as we all know, found poetry like this is important! So I decided to post it here so I won't lose it:

"The purple iridescence of your caftan plays tricks on my mind."

Thursday, January 08, 2009

SOULON: ***CHANGE IN PLANS!!!****



Disregard our previous email...
This Sunday, SOULON will be meeting
at the same downtown location
we've met at in the past.

SOULON

THIS SUNDAY

Second Sunday at Seven

This one!


When:
Sunday January 11, 2008 at 7pm.

Where:

*Gary Leonard’s OLD Studio Location*

740 S. Olive St.

Downtown L.A. 90014


google map it!


That's right... it's the same spot
we've used for most of our meetings
last year!

Don't get confused, disregard previous emails about this
and come to the SAME OLD FAMILIAR PLACE!

If you get lost or have questions, call
310-405-3306