THE HARD CORE TALE OF THE GODSKULL

* ET IGNOTAS ANIMUM DIMITTIT IN ARTES *

- Good Ole Ovid Talking About That Crafty Daedalus -

1. Basically, what we got here is all the wise old Nietzschean philosopers all a sreaming to high heaven that God is dead Dead DEAD. No real disputes here.
   
   
2. But I got to thinking about God's body, you know, the MEAT, and how it had been feeding maggots for the last 100 years or so. And so, I decided to make that journey out into the desert to find the body of God- or whatever was left of it.
   
   
3. Lo and behold, there in that broken down Rilkean shack, sitting in a pile beneath a table were the BONES OF GOD. More importantly, sitting there upon the table just a smiling the big ole smile at me was the GODSKULL.
   
   
4. Next to this profound and sublime mystery was a tall black hat, the GODHAT. I picked up the GODSKULL and a bunch of black seeds spilled out, each about the size of a flea. And I figured that they were the Bones of God's thoughts. And it seemed like a good notion to have a taste of what the Bones of God's thoughts tasted like.
   
   
5. So I put one in my mouth, swallowed, and lost my entire mind. For three years, I drank the honeyed ecstasy of angels and fucked the fire of the Sacred Light. I waited for a year to come down. Realized that I never would.
   
   
6. And so I took another one of the black seeds that were the Bones of God's thoughts. After two years of rapturous hell, I saw that I had been bestowed with the Goddamned burden of being the Keeper of the Godskull.
   
   
7. Thus I purified, simplified and made elegant the conditions of my existence.
   
   
8. And now I sit watch and wait for the One Who Can Wear The Goddamned Godhat. I can barely even lift the fucker off the table. It would snap my spine like a toothpick to try an hold it upon my damned head.
   
   
9. I shake every bone in my body with a voice run ragged like thunder invoking the mantra: