I began my poem in a manner that was both abrupt and uncompromising, as is my way, and with a great flourish of my pen I set the following words to paper, that they may lie there, sullenly and insultingly, for perpetuity. And as I wrote these words I knew beyond any doubt that this was to be my magnum opus, the work that I will be remembered for. If I am to be remembered for anything it will be this…
We were taught this life of solemn stupidity (I began), and so shall we continue it. So shall we continue with courage and conviction, with great glee and alacrity, taking no head of the seething doubts and dark misgivings that gather in their swirling multitudes in the shadowy recesses of our minds.
We were instructed – with the greatest of care – in the ways of solemn stupidity by our elders and betters who sought to obtain redemption for themselves this way, believing – as they did believe – that heaven would look down favourably upon them, if only they could ensure the perpetuation of the Sacred Nonsense.
So it was therefore that we learnt the ways of our venerable forefathers, that we might make these ways our own, and cherish them as they did cherish them. We learned the ways of our forefathers that we might continue their legacy and continue – as they did – to bring endless misfortune to this poor sad abused world of ours.
This is how we prove our loyalty in an indifferent age you see – this is how we prove our worth in an age which no longer respects the baroque and phantasmagorical foolishness of the past. This is how we show our mettle in an uncertain age, in this treacherous age of decay and sorrow when so many deadly forces are ranged against us…
How well we learned our lesson, I reflect – we learned it better than our teachers had any right to expect. We learned it too well of course and that is the whole problem right there – in our keenness to learn we had made the classic mistake: We made the mistake of giving up our own lives so that our long-dead forefathers might live again…
I grew tired then, exhausted by the effort needed to give birth to a poem of this extreme epic nature. I grew tired and because of my tiredness I fell into a deep sleep. I fell into a deep and troubled sleep and in my sleep I dreamt wildly of all the many galaxies that there are out there spinning silently in space, and of all of the multitudinously different and varied things that are going on in them. And as a result of all this fervent dreaming activity when I awoke I found that I was one hundred times more exhausted than I had been before ever falling asleep.
I was deathly pale and drawn as a result of all that I had seen and my hand shook so badly I could hardly hold my pen. It was only a matter of time before the Dream Police came knocking on my door, I realised – I had tripped their wire and so now they would be on my case for exceeding the dream limit.
