Karma Love Kid
Victoria Street station. I slink through the underground in the sticky heat of London.
I board flights to Gatwick, Luton and Heathrow. I make a killing in Stansted Airport.
Pointless package holidays to Marbella and Lanzarote! I love these target rich environments loaded with so much wasted time. Here we have the whole catalogue in colour of wasted human time.
It’s hard to believe how much fossil fuel is wasted carrying these airheads around the world on their two week vacation from mind numbing jobs, so they can say to their similar brain dead office colleagues.
Yeah. Ibiza was great man. Didn’t have to leave the hotel once.
So, it’s not difficult for me to find a massive pool of wasted time in a departure lounge where levels reach a critical mass. The endless line of vain middle-classes morons with a grotesque sense of achievement to escape from it all. But the squillionaires do it too on their private rented jets. The richest 1% own almost half of the world’s wealth, while the poorest half of the world, own 0.75%, Staggering numbers. The middle class keep these numbers widening. The rich keep laughing at them for doing so.
As for the super rich. I am coming to get you. I am stoking a particular warm spot in hell for you to fry your botoxed ass that looks the same as your botoxed forehead. Zombeen! Beff Jezos!
Your existence is a tumour of fermenting time. Dead time that I can bring back to life for my own purpose. And how much fun are we going to have when I get my hands on you? As for the middle class. Well, unfortunately you are not even worth my cat’s spit.
Millions of time wasting shopping mall misfits, swelling like a calcified growth of dead cells.
Wasted time. Human time.
What do they do with it?
Purple cat wears a hat
It's made of finest silk and when he creeps through streets at night
It's not in search of milk
He's the kind of cat you've heard of by writers of great fame
But Eliot's Macavity cannot hold a flame
To this great purple feline who is Master of the Game
His crimes are unrecorded
No paw prints can you find
Because what he steals is the most precious thing known to mankind
He's the thief of all your wasted time
Making up his own rhyme
Purple Cat wears a coat
Lined with pockets that bespoke
Many a hidden toy a wizard would enjoy
To deceive with a sleight of hand
For light he can employ
With a claw at his command
To leap through space and time
Landing on his feet on the turn of a dime
Four purple paws from the greatest height
Spinning his body with effortless delight
And when he comes down to pounce on his prey
You’ll soon find out that his victim is not what you would say
Is the obvious target nor a find for a feast
He is the terror of what you have taken care of least
Yes, he is your hit and miss in the same vein
Knowing how to wait for time to explain
that what you look at, is what you think you can see
But he is chasing atomic mice invisibly
Schrodinger's cat is a lie to be trapped in your
Attempt to understand you are not where you’re at
Purple Cat smokes a pipe
With a tingle in his nose
Leaving a trail of infinite rings everywhere he goes
With a whiskers twitch and a baleful eye
No questions beg silly answers nor reasons why
Your wasted time he rips with childlike glee
He will not spare a thought for you on your spending spree
Our slumbering feline wakes up with a yawn
Never shall you play with him as your little pawn
Another thrilling day ahead full of purple jest
Who can count the ways his charms will manifest
He cocks his lovely tail in a question hoop
And hangs every capitalist in one fell swoop
I’m Karma love kid. I am an assault on the word.
The man made word. The word Time.
I am going to crush it into dust and recreate Time in a new kind of clock ticking by my own Light.
Here I come dancing into the city on my Sherman tank. I am formed from the finest ink sucked out of the marrow, with a quiver of arrows setting my sight on the target. I position the first arrow on my Time Reversible Recurve Bow. I raise it and draw my cosmic string in one fluid motion back to the anchor point at my lips.
Looking down the spine of the shaft, I dilate one pupil to pull back light from the edge of the expanding universe to pinpoint a time in the past.
I grip my little finger with my thumb and keep my three remaining fingers together. The tension mounting in my body causes thin vapours of smoke to curl up into the air.
I pout my bottom lip out and wait for a Karmasecond. Gathering a deep resonance with every finger that moves towards a crescendo building up a rhythmic deep bass tone, more felt than heard. The Katastrophic Quartet are in tow following Purple Cat’s lead on his baton.
The pressure on my cosmic string grows taut. The target has been chosen. I finger the feathered fletch like a dial to hit the date, a target in past time.
With this bow, I do define my 3 arrows to shape space and time. I will cut through dimensions, a celestial art, leaving a trail of havoc in its chart. A shot into my new universe where my story will start.
I am the arrow and the bow. I am the target that I know. I am the speed and the light. I am gravity wrapped up tight, to make a universe of my design. Come with me and make it shine. There is no beginning and there is no end. Right here and now, is the present to amend.