biograph

by j. griogair bell

Biograph, part 1

being a narrative introduction of the Lion

Noble Lion fractured duke is
lost in sound in fury drowned in
pain invented flickering spark on
blade invented love from open
eyes from tainted blood from broken
angel pain her name the wall is
scribbled black ink marker crayon
fragile time forever frozen

Noble lion crown of stolen
thorns relief a cross and crown in
foreground etched from faded form a
foreground lines identity of
hates defines crosshatch wood block lines
background negative his head as
fore is much the same as delusion
back is much the same as fore is

Fractured duke a broken image
mind intropic mirror thru his
lies of mind deceived are because
deceiving they are and faced with
putrid parabola pseudo
persanality an oral
hierarchy hate the peter
principle of penile projection
his faults rise to everybody's
perceived incompetence alpha
mask of his omega meets his
past the dissonance harmonic
hunger bites the bitter seeds from
mummified hermetic apple
justified in his dischord

Lost in sound and broken spoken
words and silences in violence
stripper tripping incoherent
parchment paper prophets speaking
plastic pubic percussion and
electronic enlightenment
crucified on ribbons pierced on
iron filings all to achieve
some silence between his empty
thoughts of being lost in sound
deaf and dumb wishing to be blind
pointless to the pain of nature
mother of his fear of women
fear of his androgyne virgin
kind of like a compass with no
needle music with no sound or
living to a ripe old age and
never waking up from sleepless
dreams of bass and thunder drums

Fury drowned in screaming seeming
dancing dream hallucinating
hermaphroditic sexual
positions with knives and wands of
ivory and amethyst and
bloody hands crossing behind her
goddess demands crucifixion
leather handcuffs living jesus
hoka hey inside denial
how much harder can he push it
redemption of his soul in flesh
alchemical reunion
pomegranate heights and lotus
lips slips upside down ladder steps
toward endless reincarnation
drug induced illumination of
kaleidoscopic ceiling floor
illustrated walls and wishing
well in her in soulless demise

Biograph, part 2

being a narrative introduction of the Rabbit

Fragile rabbit captured prey his
rabbit hands in heaven little
rabbit feet in hell with pain and
overwhelming love destructive
game destroying all he does from
beauty angel angel heart his
devised homage fluttering art
image drawn across his soul in
bruised and bloody flesh a demand
weakly written without rhyme for
eternity

Fragile rabbit seeks a purpose
feelings in him feels himself
self constructing out of hidden
hurt and fervent hope intending
truth to himself and everyone else
left lost within lies he loses
track of limits ends up ripping
himself apart facing east in
the south he stands

Captured prey is caught in cages
lions claws and shaking from the
chase exhausted from the fear by
lions chased and fearing lies with
nothing left but death to fear and
facing predators he sees he
finds a lion inside turns to
face the fear he learns and learns to
face the fear he fears by fighting
lions outside learns to hate the
lions inside and he fears he
creates predators he sees by
finding fear reflections outside
finds reflected fear in himself
hates what he projected outside
emanates from himself between
parts entanglement of himself
two machines two parts of him in
living syncopated rhythm
having undetermined measure
infinite of beat and lost in
time they grind against each other
without a self he is left and
naked is revealed feeling
nothing but his fears and feeling
mediocrity in himself
inferiority as his
only consolation

Rabbit hands grasping
desperately at the image
feels but he fears he creates
whole cloth with the threads from his mind
wholly woven in unraveled
fringes hanging from his head strings
loosened by hands of tortured
fear and manipulates while
blindly hoping that he discovers
what he feels is really real
he then screams and oaths to his self
absent and in vain to worship
in the church of his search for his
angel he then grabs hold of what
he gropes and hopes he holds the grail
he seeks afraid to find that his
blindness has fooled him a jester
joking pulling tricks on his own
unconscious conscious half

Little rabbit feet in hell in
living dwelling flames of his fear
tragedy dramatic construct
his hell in his head his childhood
anxieties insecurity
fill the Pandora's box jester's
unconscious joke book consigned to
flames of fear that burn and torture
heart and murmur lies to mind that
reinforces fears removes his
safety he can't stand to lose but
builds up fear until he insures
loss and writes his own failure in
self destructive cycle of self
fulfilling prophesy and he
hopes the angel of his eyes will
deny his demon his lies and
still can love him since he cannot
love himself he sells his worship
as long as he is worshipped he
wants so very much to be true
he hopes that the selfish ego
he sees is as created as
all the fear

Biograph, part 3

being the lion's exposition of self

The Lion,
"My only remorse is the pain
damn the lies of the lost disguises
down to my skin with nowhere to
hide nothing but tears to hold my
face the sky from crashing down on
broken earth and twisted crushing
naked bloody corpse of my life
fading in the evening of my
suicide I await split and
eager eagle fantastic this
crucifixion pain drips from my
wrists anointing to amphoric
dirt alembic beneath my feet
I indwell black robe unbalanced
rehearsal and my sadistic
performance wrapped around pounding
hearts her claws peel away the
lips of the abyss as I slide
in I ejaculate stale
nausea in my heart in the
memory of my shadow love
I am martyr messiah in
methuselah amniotic
mouth of my demon dream lover
and the devil that offers me the
world nightmare my companion in
lies I lie between her silky
kimono legs military
father save my bursting soul from
demon wombs of dream loves phoenix
abortion from the sin of flames
I will be reborn immortal
bodies of the earth in bloody
dripping suicide through fading
eyes and wind whipped skin I feel the
holy sin my blood is rushing
filling crucible destruction
halo overdose in the wind
hallucination rings as I
eat the world sins regurgitate
salvation into the hands of
faithful few a predigested
heaven disgorged smears the ground and
mixes with my blood the bread of
my flesh and the alchemy of
my death swirls in the water of
mandrake entangled entrail vine
creeping vision around the wine
holy forehead of my father's
revenge my followers leave the
buddha's footprint in the quickly
drying scab of my sacrifice."

Biograph, part 4

being the rabbit's exposition of self

The rabbit,
"My only remorse is the pain
damn the memories of all my
misdeeds surrounded by the claws with
nowhere to hide nothing but few
hand written reminders echoes
of her voice to hold me my heart
the sun from collapsing in on
some blank infinity and the
corrupt bloated empty gutted
corpse of my life fading in the
evening of my sacrifice no
one listened so I stopped trying
to explain I will try again
but again no one will listen
lied to manipulated for
so long I've lost my way in haze
illusion can't get by without
some misguiding hand so that lie
I provide myself to rely
on unreliability
expect depression rejection
the only reflexion of self
I can believe anything else
is just a lie to protect guilt
from admitting the pity in
their eyes I don't feel right without
my self my self destructive friend
I am victim my failure has
made my father failure father
of my failure failure is the
ever present father promise
of my future in my ever
present father and my failure
is made ever present by my
mother and the mother in me
finds the failure of my father
in me gender of my error
terror failure that I cannot
escape my genesis my genes
failure without knowing success
without models without roles to
model I formed models within
of roles perfect imperfectly
filled and so I play roles without
that I cannot portray within
while playing roles an ideal
of the irrational realism
I know no limits so I know
only failure so I search for
some new mother from my dreams who
will tell me that all is not as
it seems and that I am still loved
no matter how much I fail
and that I am not a failure
so I find a woman to be
my mother and I make her march
to the makeshift drummer of my
mothering my demand the thing
only between she and I
and I and she relation that
quickly ceases any value
to be to her even tho I
desperately want to keep it
together when the image fails
she fails I feel the failure of
my ego instead of letting
go I drown her my sorrow I
leave her with my shadow since I
must save my ego I blame her
myself for this failure of my
shadow to satisfy mother
image of my maiden mother
myth I am left with haunting holes
in my heart where I drove love out
the stake of my self created
self mistakes my broken remains
the tract of my martyr crusade
missionary and 69
all that is left of the love she
offered that I wouldn't accept
is the littering lies she told
damn her eyes I destroyed trying
to ease the memory of my
past my lie that I live is the
only remaining unbroken
gift of her love I have to give
my life meaning I'm lost in lost
reality dreaming that I
can make my dream real when I
don't even believe in those dreams
anymore."

Biograph, part 5

the rabbit reveals the lion to himself

The rabbit breathes deep,
"You are seduced your sedition
the puling personality
orphan machiavellian
manipulation the warrior
and the sickly sweet subterfuge
the martyr living a life of
likeness and false face facades
manipulate and control and
induce reaction build a self
image your own deep desire
conspire to win repulsive
contest of confidence building
strawmen around the burning flame
alsehood leads to enlightenment
not of buddha enlightenment
of flesh torn and tattered leaving
you masturbating with bloody
ashes scouring and ripping
you won reaming remains of lies
you desire the archetype of
the lion but faced with that face
you fear you yearn for innocent
youth that you can only conceive
never capture when your mask slips
as it must you are left with your
phallic narcissism hanging
out from somewhere between her thighs
you try so hard to act the part
of your dramatic saturday
romantic serial that you
don't realize that everything
you try becomes a lie you bend
up from your bed of serpentine
roses to worship altar words
human habits you imitate
flickering your tongue against her
salty silky lust your rosy
cross of waxen eucalyptus
nailed broken across defiled
deified names you envoke with
bitter bile smeared lips guardians
seven caves your spiraling slide
mayan biting your lips the blood
rust fills your mouth you lick her hips
leaving stains of death under her
maiden habit virtue inside
you are what you deny inside
her you are what you deny her
the devil lie is between your
legs while you lie between hers skin
ripping your skin with his wiccan
sharpened teeth he tugs at your mask
from behind kabuki son of
man conspiracy runnels like
the make-up runs down your face
saliva flecked trinity of
your lying love laughing lingum
your life licking fucking fiction
wasting away falling away
revealing your empty face
and blank expression your mask peals
away the reptile skin of your
monkey mimic sins flowing from
your empty eye socket blood-filled
yin-yang deception butt-fucked by
buddha you vomit swastika
spew and you perspire pentagrams
of pain his pleasure flows out your
vacant dreaming eyes."

Biograph, part 6

the lion reveals the rabbit to himself

The lion responds,
"You would have to be insane to
believe that this game won't end up
the same you are entranced by the
ignorance of the innocent
and whipped by the weird wisdom of
the wizard with ignorance you
invite destruction with wisdom
you open yourself to what you
know not of the path that you want
to perfect and fear that you might
forget is not there you want to
perfect in order in control
and to get what you cannot hold
except by being perfect that
something you will never be that
something you will never achieve
you hate me for what you cannot
do you drink down depression you
brew like methylated one gulp
muscatel you expect on her
sympathy survive sympathy
you will never get sympathy
you never deserved pathetic
personality will lead to
enlightenment not of buddha
enlightenment on their faces
when they find you and laugh at you
masturbating in the bathroom
whispering her name leaving you
with semen and shredded and soaked
tissue stuck to your embarrassed
fingers like the slime of your self
image clogs around your heart you
hide behind your mask of the past
and what They Did to You you hide
behind the lies deception that
they weave in around you like some
handy disguise for your failure
you blame Them so you don't have to
kill your self with self hate and yet
the self that you hate is the one
that you love with that anxious love
you attach like a leach anything
that you promise promises you
rescue you wait suffocate
your savior when you fall from the
back of the one you murdered you
yell I told you I told you and
you blame them for your own tower
self inflicted stupidity
you blame them for the trap you saw
but didn't avoid analyze
your transactions form a gestalt
of suffocating approach and
alienating avoidance
your therapy of sorrow and
your mask of tears rip the paper
snowflakes that you create to hide
your face you study catalog
your fears pretend you have control
instead of them in control of
you your parental childhood
has left you your lovers nothing
obsession anxiety to
salve inadequate performance
your romantic remorse over
what you wish you were revolting
you create the death destruction
in your life whole cloth from your own
imagination and auto
erotic fantasies that you
can't live up to and then make it
real because your infantile
conditioned personality
you know the only way to get
what you've been promised by yourself
is make yourself miserable
so you cycle back always the
same back to the camel's back where
you cling hang from a hump swinging
your fetal cry for attention
until you are thrown as you will
always because deliberately
you let go to test the promise
you know was never real you
made it you push the limits by
limiting yourself to the same
script that you wrote for yourself and
the thing that hits you deepest is
that your demand goes unnoticed
by everyone everyone that
has heard it all before and has
grown tired your self inflicted
wounds factitious cries oppression
you should have been alcoholic
and saved your father the burden
of having to carry you thru
adulthood like some idiot
savant retarded you demand
adult respect while you demand
someone change your diapers that you
wear to show the world that you are
vulnerable in your own mind
you create your own destruction
you dive willingly into the
abyss you knew you created
and placed you rehearse suicide
by flinging yourself on the traps
you lay in your head created
out of the set to some play that
never opened because you lost
nerve during final rehearsals
and now you blame your nothing life
on the cardboard enemies you
created for yourself in your
workshop of manipulation
and depression you bend over
and break your back sucking your own
cock and you choke on the semen
coagulated your diseased
love and lick your salty lips of
vomit and come then bend down more
self inflicted pleasure because
you'd rather lose than realize
that no one gives enough of a
shit to inflict it for you so
swallow your passion and let it
burn down your throat and come back up
in your self disgusted vomit
and stick your finger up your ass
and wiggle it around tickle
your prick and try to forget you
created this hell for yourself
but it will chase you down like your
sin dripping from your chin you can't
get away from what you create
and your self hate will eat you from
inside as you eat yourself from
the outside in your candle of
self love hate burning fireball
of enlightenment a weak and
meaningless flash of ecstatic
static that passes and fades from
memory the world will never
remember your martyrdom if
you die in your own little hell
the world will never have known you
existed nor will it care for
puerile petty lugubrious
productions you would only make
the world sick to its stomach and
stain its conscious with black conscience
or more likely the world would just
laugh your commedic calumny
the world has no use for you or
your phantasm or self centered
egoism in fact you make
even me sick and if I am
as bad as you say guess what that
makes you."

Biograph, part 7

the rabbit speaks to you

The rabbit explains,
"The lion often sees me in
his own image I become the
victim of his need for rescue
I become the twisted mirror
of his cycle suffering to
prove his suffering failing to
prove his failure and suffering
in the depression of his own
conception do not pity him
it is only an excuse for
him to fuck you and hate you do
not love him it is only an
excuse for him to fuck himself
and hate you he overcomes he
pretends to be complex and by
simplicity complexly won
forces you to live his life if
he cannot fuck you he will hate
you and take revenge on you you
give in to his little death he
will force from you will force on you
even despite your desire
he will rape you oblivion
he takes from you he takes he takes
it all and gives nothing except
his burning acid semen he
will fuck you and leave you his spew
like a scar like a forever
reminder that you gave in and
all your pain will just be his way
of forgetting himself he will
fuck you as an excuse to hate
you and I will have to watch as
he rips you down rips you open
and then I will have to listen
as he calls you the demon and
blames you for the pain he inflicts
on himself when you have gone and
he cannot inflict the pain on
anyone else he is very
much the product of acting in
his own production I become
lead actor in his theatre
of absurd alienated
ethical egoists he will
say the lines for them he will play
all the parts for them except mine
he reserves my part for me he
is so eager for me to play
I am seen somehow with the same
festering face with a crown that
I see when I look at him I
become the communion
for his need in relief this makes
him seem whole the trap in his mind
he demands me what he himself
cannot provide I am forced to
give the convincing performance
to poorly written lines I am
forced to live his lie and deny
mine I fear the violence I hear
in my own voice I protest so
much I fear that my truth may be
his lie I fear the actor has
become the role that the trap in
his mind is inside my own head
I artfully create in him
to trap myself I fear my own
crafty homunculus surely
I have been writing the lion's
lines to make mine seem so real
I accuse him of my own crime
I am my own most dangerous
game as I hunt down the halls of
my own haunted hell for myself
all the while blaming the whole
on him the prostitute victim
my production my stage my set
and the lines I write and ram down
his drowning throat some big brother
I pull the strings to the drumbeat
melody my melodrama
the quickening rhythm latent
anal heartbeat so I don't know
whether to be proud or to be
nauseous."

Biograph, part 8

the lion speaks to you

The lion explains,
"The rabbit often sees his own
image in me I become the
victim of his need for outlet
I become the twisted puppet
of his imaginary world
analyzed and synthesized world
where everything is factual
and I'm a delusion do not
pity him he pities himself
already do not love him he
will pity you he selfishly
demands all the attention that
he thinks he needs to prove your love
taking taking like a teething
infant that bites as it suckles
he is so complex and doesn't
understand tries to find simple
answers to the complex questions
he has not asked if you love him
he will hate you if you hate him
he will think he loves you excuse
to love himself sacrifice he
will create in order to prove
he will love you when you leave him
and his love will scar him like a
forever reminder that he
could not hold you push you away
he will force himself to fail
as an excuse to scar himself
and he will hate himself when you
have gone and when he cannot hate
himself because you're there and he
can't touch you anymore because
he's trying to hold himself in
his fantasy world crumbling
because it's designed to crumble
because his self hate will not let
him succeed and his weak whimpers
will call out for you like chains to
bind just another strategy
to keep you he can continue
to torture himself he cannot
hold you and he cannot let go
and when you are gone he will see
me and hate me and accuse me
all the crimes he cannot commit
of all the hate he cannot feel
for you he will kill himself in
hating me to displace the pain
he feels I reflect evil
he feels evil in himself
he possesses me with evil
in his little fucking rabbit
soul he hates my phallus he hates
himself for wanting it wanting
it to replace his the failure
of his sexuality makes
him want to destroy mine he seeks
to deny me what he wishes
he could have by labeling me
evil when the evil is in
his head to make me powerless
he complains about my power
he denies I am part of him
I end up kowtowing as the
castle to his king to get leave
to exist his majesty makes
us both pawns to the queen willing
to sacrifice himself in some
gambit just to make the gesture
as if losing was romantic
and he manipulates and claims
that I wear the crown none of this
would be if I did yet he fears
to control me because deep down
he can't believe autonomy
but he's afraid to prove it change
frightens him when he isn't the
one changing he loses control
and he loses touch with the fragile
reality he has built and
tries so hard to believe in and
yet his perception is vivid
locked in his world he wonders how
he as alienated and intrinsic
as he is could develop the
drama outside he only wants
to hide from if it didn't in
reality exist where I
already reside."

Biograph, coda

By way of apocrypha, a narrative apology for the drama

with the lion chasing the hare
chasing the lion somewhere in
there inside where I cannot reach
to separate them I cannot
control them I am stuck frozen
between these lines these two sides in
the war between the subtle and
the gross

I want to fuck her and to make
love to her but can do neither
because they both hurt us so much
I want to hold her and to hug
her but I can do neither because
they both might crush her I really
want to free her and to release
her but can do neither because
they both might take her away from
me

the taurus of my phallus prods
the leo of my love but the
gemini of my heart cuts it
a circumcision of conscience
watching her I wallow in the
mayan temple my heart wrenching
sacrifice as I bite into
the muscle of my mistake it
jumps and palpitates in my palm
in my claw my rabbit impaled
heart on the lion claws of my
emotion I think both lion
and rabbit are fucking insane
and I wish they would stop playing
this game in my head and just leave
me alone with her with silence
my rabbit ego is saved in
revenge my lion ego is
reborn the lion knows he is
god the rabbit knows he is not
I am stuck somewhere inbetween
and after the sturm und drang I
find that by trying to control
her I have lost her and that now
I have to control my urge to
control even my own soul I
try to control and this attempt
I allow to control me to
the point that it pretty well rules
me and it is ruining me
I destroy everything around
me including every chance I
have to be happy

jigsaw piece puzzle fit forget
that two wrongs do not make a right
from broken pieces I have spent
these five years past to make them whole
I have to find myself between
desire and morality and
until I do all I have this
dialectic dialog two
unhappy halves these two world views
everytime I think I've silenced
I find I have only denied
them and they return so busy
fighting each other they fail
notice that I've gone on without
them they arise angry full force
ruins my hope when they return
she sees what I become wonders
who I really am inbetween
them screaming all she has to do
is see not her own history
in between them and see me but
I'm too afraid to tell her that
no one of these parts is me these
parts are all of me because my
web of identity between
the face of the divine and the
hand of mortality between
desire and my morality

she's a hypocrite demanding
demeanors of masculine masks
while smashing her own feminine
prison sexual selection
sleepwalking her past me while I
lay awake listening to her
screaming accusations at me
the world's running down around me
she demands of me what in her
she calls injustice attracted
to the image she's nervously
wanton the face of the lion
but can't fight the instincts that blind
her to the fact that it's a lie
she's repulsed by fragility
she demands the rabbit be strong
when he faces the lion even
tho she is as unable to
change as the rabbit is and still
she wants the lion most likely
to hurt her ignoring that the
weakness of the rabbit is that
he cares and the passion of the
lion is play in order to
crucify she contaminates
the cure with a chemistry of
uncertainty when she enters
everyone stumbles and forgets
their well rehearsed lines but then she
leaves them to their own devices
and actually claims to be
shocked when the players pick up their
scripts continue where they left off
I find that the drama doesn't
satisfy now I know I am
unworthy because she leaves me
every time what I learned this time
I will forget in time and I
will foolishly try again but
I will return to seclusion
I should recognize the pattern
learn a method of prevention
stopping fated progress because
she leaves me every time I should
know that I am not well and I
should know that there is no cure in
her that can't be found in me and
I can find no cure in me of
the seed of my own demise locked
inside waiting to grow at the
merest touch of her soil a
fertile fate in me it waits and
I should know that her soil and
my seed leave me nothing mandrake
mistakes and memories remind
me for a while that I tried
once again to drag her down with
me because I couldn't let go
hope even tho I know she leaves
me every time I find myself
between my desire and my
morality fascist infant
demands and democratic dreams

finding no solution I can
only wonder where this all leaves
me repeating the same sadness
over and over again in
unending epic cycle in
written spoken rhythm poem
silently fought for her benefit
under the protective wings of
angelic promise of release
she leaves me every time
I find myself inbetween the
noble lion, fragile rabbit
between my desire and my
morality I can't fuck her
I'm too busy fucking myself