Verse XI
for that will be the beginning of the Swiss takeover of the world,
the Swiss are plotting the overthrow of all governments,
they’ve been planning it for centuries,
they have all of our money hoarded away in their banks
and they have been purchasing technology
reversed engineered from alien spacecraft and
their armies will start with New Zealand,
because no one, no one would expect world domination to start with New Zealand
and from the Swiss,
because they are a neutral, land-locked country,
and they secretly plan our downfalls,
and they know that they will win,
because they have the drug whosin
stored away within their secret vaults
next to nazi and Jewish hordes of gold
and bodies of Kafka and Stalin and Hitler
all agree that the Swiss are not to be trusted
with the secrets of god
nor of the knowledge of the word virus
nor of the virus of Walt Whitman,
through whose words god speaks and
when Walt died the virus spread
until it caught form in Joyce, and when Joyce died
the virus became one with heroin and infected William Burroughs,
and when Burroughs sent out
his shots of mental jism into space upon words,
the virus caught hold of my mind
and burrowed itself deep into my the subconscious strata of my mind,
and now I cannot get rid of it
for the virus is like a mycelium
mold growing through my body,
it gives me two things,
psilocybin and words,
words and psilocybin,
I am my own mushroom,
I metabolize my own junk,
I grow my own hallucinogens within my own body and
I ingest myself and bear the sporing fruit in my words,
and my words are mushrooms
and they burst out into the air,
and the spores of my virus will spread
through the wind and infect others,
it will land in their hands
or eyes, or ears, or tongues,
or it will be rounded up and stored on bookshelves,
for eons until some poor soul opens the book and
unleashes the virus of my words again