was directly solicited by Innocent III
(preëmptive name, no?)
to root out and exterminate
the heretics, who were as thick as ticks
on the body of the Roman Church of Septimania,
for which service he could keep all he seized
over the whole course of the punitive expedition.
This was an inducement custom fit
for a creature of such legendary pettiness
gross avarice and proven venality
and indicates the Pope’s canniness
in a time greed &c was virtually
¶ Two tendencies have always defined the policy of the German Tribes—their rivalry with Rome and their attempt to replace the New Testament with a blonde body builder, while Rome installs a Greek shipping magnate mythos to account for archaic privilege. ¶ The lumpen Arkansawd Baptist Bourgeoisie Jumped-Up by Yale Alias for revolutionglia, Ha!
¶ Long before 1209, the Cathars were fully convinced of their perfection and they had demonstrated by total abandonment to love in practice and by total doubt in theory that the Church was just a collection agency levying protection in the usual Italian way, i.e., “Give me a hundred dollars a month or I’ll kill ya.” But this was the beginning of French Voluntarism ending finally in the Buonapartes and the Pantheon, now including the Church of the Curies who were killed by X-ray, not radium.
¶ As the present voice cannot speak of such things because honesty has long been a categorical heresy against the modern state the parallels for Simon’s tremendous opportunism would be difficult to assess now—and then there is the incalculable
PIETY GOES THROUGH THE ROOF—BOGOMILS NOT AT TABLE IN DAYTON—NEGOTIATIONS FOUNDER ON OLDEST DILEMMA OF LES BALKANS: INNATE HATRED BETWEEN THE RELIGIOUS FACTIONS «RECONCILIATION» (WHICH NEVER WORKS) TAKES A DIVE—THERE ONCE WAS A KILLER CELL / KNOWN AS THE CELL FROM HELL— the only pursuit licensed by the Church.
As the ground fog clears and lays the dew
the cathedral mass if emerges over the Orb
and from its depths comes the murmer
of the twenty thousand quaking souls,
the Cathars stoic with certainty
their Catholic friends and protectors
worrying their surplices to tatters
with the magic sign of the cross, all
gathered in the colon of the mother church
packed and trembling together waiting
to be evacuated to eternity
for they have had the news of the advance
of this professionally bloody force
under the bizzarely cold Simon de Montfort.
influence, supremely modern, of making a virtue of the inevitable. Still, the main features were exposed by the Reformation, the revolution which cannot speak its name, and are automatically applied to the Serbs by a fast-food glutted and vaticanized, self-professed, wannabe Jesuit Arky like Bill, who forks over his Baptist lessons to the last bellicose extension of Rome/Boston.
¶ Religious tolerance is the surest sign of belief in nothing, nihilismus, the club lunch. Once capital enterprise was pried from the stone grasp of the Roman administration and its financial agents, Protestant capitalists lined up toward the Roman magnet like iron filings dressed in business suits, the replacement habit of hierarchical control. It was the “population” of the reformationist countries who got thrown to the dogs, the new Dominicans who finally came to be the Big Dogs of international biz and promoters of the new “reformation” aka multiculturalism, the cult par excellence of late imperialism. But that’s quite Roman too. Rome was the first clearing house culture, the ascendancy of the disciplined horde populations over the northern races who were left to bear the cold and difficult singularities of individualism (the “you’re on your own”
GOODYEAR CONDOM CIRCUMS DOWNTOWN CLEVELAND, MISTAKEN FOR AKRON, DROPS TONS OF SPERM PELLETS ON ROCK HALL OF FAME, NO EFFECT—FAME FLAT, ANONYMITY ADVANCES—CHRISSIE HYNDE, BOB LEWIS, JERRY AND THE PACEMAKERS, THE MOTHERSBAUGHS, STEADY AS FIRESTONES—FORGET THE BROWNS, JIM
This Massacre and cremation
is the occasion and the moment
of the justly famous generalization
uttered by Innocent III’s secretary
when asked how the faithful
were to be discriminated
from the disbelievers:
“Burn them all! for the Lord
will know his own”
came the reply from the Emissary
of Absolute Authority.
plank or the Swiss Heresy), which was never about direct access (the propaganda) to God, but to the vaults or the crypts, where the bones of succession wrapped in the titles are kept. Joseph de Maistre, the most vehement and toxic and interesting despiser of the Reformation and champion of the Counter-Reformation makes this same point for entirely different purposes than herein deployed.
¶ Thus the surplus numbers shipped out to the west by the North were by definition asocial outcast wanderers (not Dante’s) and radically unlike the blessed and yoked and culturally programed hordes of Mediterraneans and Iberians, the <Dark White> cradle Romans [usage reintroduced here from H.G. Wells, Outline of History, Garden City, 1949.]
BROWNS GONE ANY WAY—DEAD AYN RAND STILL PULLING THE STRINGS OF GOVERNMENT WITH HER MARIONETTE ALAN GREENSPAN—INTELLECTUAL MARKET SUFERS SEVERE DROP—STILL UP FROM 87 WHEN MICHAEL JACKSON’S AND TED TURNER’S ADVISOR STRIPPED THE REPUBLIC OF IT’S PILFERED ASSETS———
Albi, a Day Trip
Albi crawls today
with the narrow-eyed descendants,
the compliant bad tempered offspring
of the first inquisition into
deific rebellion, the sign
of Manichean indifference
in the face of centralized authority
and the overweening enthusiasm
for success even if it requires
the total cartoonization of sentience
and the squandering of perception
who even today look like
they’re waiting for somebody
to cough up some Protestants,
so they can get on with the business
they made their reputation on—
Market gardening, public dining,
national conversation concerning
the scandal of the bourgeois results
of Roman ambition and culture,
dynasties replacing royalty, a sop
thrown to a demos dedicated
to endless somnambulent lunch
in preparation for a dinner of pigeons
and rabbits and snails and tubers
filled with ascospores, rooted out
by trained pigs; but now synthesized
by the ever questing copycat Japanese.
The hotels are always full in Albi,
just because they say they are.
The supplicants for shelter grow mad
which was designed to brutalize
the senses, an immense sign of power
and preëmptive caution, an orange light
which a little less than a thousand years
will fade to yellow, as the traffic
and sheer mobility and pollution
weaken all intensity of vision
and dillute the expeditionary fever
with the sheer rush of aimlessness
and the revelation
that destination would have no meaning
even if it existed, producing
a species-wide despair
and a generalized intuition that life
is a colony, workers and drones
managers and armies, queens
passing eggs on their thrones,
Procuring perpetual conferences—
but you know it’s just still
the Inquisition, booked up, forever
persuading or dismissing the heretical
&
nbsp; barbecuing the truly insistent,
pulling apart, an inch at a time
the uncertain, since, if they
can reason enough to be unsure
a visitation from the devil is presumed.
Ville d’Albi. From across the Tarn
Cathedral mass of Saint-Cecilia
looms, the farthest reach of Rome,
now ruling on the cheap, with
the threat of moveable courts
and the force of unexplainable events,
the power walk way to heaven
fed by the farming of the heretics
roasted by fire, hell brought back
into the here and the now,
the only place and the only time.
Cathar comes from the Greek
meaning pure—they rejected
all food which was produced
from animal intercourse. They
abhorred the sacraments of the Church
bread, wine and water
for they saw in such veneration
the raising up of the material
realm of Satan, the old and only bargain
and that, in fact, Caesar,
who at least had the decency to show up
was now replaced by a cheap
bunch of spongers in robes
claiming to have the ear of God.
What the Cathari witnessed
and sensibly rejected
was the replacement of an organized
disciplined military caste
by a bribing, whoring, and disease spreading
ecclesiastical administration—
nobody’s ever called that an improvement
and they were the direct antecedents
of our present inspectorate,
overseeing our accounts
conducting our audits
stamping our paper,
seizing our children, death drugging
our heretics, electro-shocking
the perfecti, rat conditioning
the mutate minorities, the mouth
foaming fieldmice streaming
from the vast estates
of the Oligarchies to the south,
conquest by breeding and spermdumping.
The bottom line of that great,
degenerating power is
Bad times get Worse, so
don’t expect much, and be grateful
for the occasional porc chop—
our bereavement is universal
but transitory, it’s not
exactly pie in the sky—
it’s more like a bagel, with
a cross instead of a hole. I
believe in the Virgin Mary
says the Devil (minor CEO),
and then takes down his pants
and defecates on the trolley, just around
dinner time, on a first class flight
to Whereverdad. Central America.
Albi. I’ll be, You’ll be, Al’ll be.
Eventually we’ll all be. The thought enforcers
grow stronger, their gain is post-expotential—
it gets along without potential, it runs on decay
The main faux-fortress church is set in the centre
way above the Tarn, gross, intentional,
as threatening as a stationary object
can be—a machine,
an even higher form of administration.
It was there from the beginning.
The Inquisition:
the founding of the modern state. No doubt.
The new corporate buyout of the Empire
occurred in Albi, after the first decade
after the first great burnings
by Montfort—
Still all that’s nothing
to the incineration of Béziers.
But atmosphere is not made up of details—
Albi is Albi today as it was
In 1220 anno domini.
By rejecting all that, the heretics
unwittingly showed the way
to the end of the millennium
where the Imperial conveniences
transmogrify into culture
and demand privilege on the grounds
that they have been denied (abused)
—Like, not unreasonably, the Inquisition
happened to Them—
and morally lacerated by the schism
and the theft of church goods
and ground, and so turns the Mass
into the mass. Dumb and Clever.
Rome owes considerable
back-rent on the Reformation.
Do the Simon de Montfort / Do le Busard
Qui frappe’n sur la porte?!
C’est moi, c’est moi
Simon de Montfort!
O non! O non!
Ce n’est pas Simon de Montfort?!
Si! Si! C’est moi, c’est moi
Simon de Montfort,
Levez-vous la porte!
O non! O non!
C’est Simon de Montfort—
Vite! Vite!
Fermez la porte!
C’est le busard, Simon de Montfort!
Mais non! Demandez la porte!
C’est moi, Simon de Montfort!
Ouvrez la porte, ouvrez la porte!
C’est moi, Simon de Montfort!
Simon de Montfort? Vraiment?
Simon de Montfort—oui!
O non! O non! Le Busard!
Téléphonez à la gendarmerie!
Vite vite, tout de suite!
Téléphonez à la gendarmerie!
Ten Years in Gaul
Religious wars are the only real wars
they’re gods’ wars
The true ground of ordeal
and fervor, brought on
To concentrate the faith
And to set fire in the spirit.
Cold wars are fought over territory
Or over minerals and materials,
Control of licenses and rights
To hold leases from afar,
To displace, exile and banish
To capture and enslave populations.
All with business in mind.
Word reaches us the Helvetians
Are loading their luggage
to cross the Rhine.
The Corporation, above reckoning,
Spreading Misery and pestilence,
Transporting cholera under pressure
Landing and dumping the bacterium
The cultural carbuncles of its cargo.
Causing attrition of sentience
Throughout the market
Through satiety with cheap goods,
The endless baubles of science
And the progress of grotesque medicines.
Rome was certainly a corporation
In the year 58 B.C., when Caesar
Gave free reign to the plebeians
And rode off toward Geneva,
Covering 700 miles in a week
On horseback, beating the Popemobile
on its own, struggling with every stone.
Dismissal
The Greatest Poet of this expendable century
was also its greatest, most public Heretic.
He made anti-Semitism a heresy,
although he wasn’t the greatest anti-Semite of his time.
Or even close.
A Modern gang of cutthroats
in cartoon berets, with sumo champions
like Gertrude Stein—
The giant abbreviator from Oak Park
who wrote, stuttering
pseudo-wise hymns to war, and
its effects on the adventurous sector
of the lower / upper middle class.
The Anti-trial
The hearing of arraignment
has been described elsewhere.
He was detained not because
he was the Greatest Poet,
they couldn’t have known that
anyway
nor would they have given a hoot
far from it.
There was no trial because everybody
knew it would be a witch trial—
an actual, sticks-around-a-post burning.
It was too historic, too soon after
great upheaval between the Europeans
and the cast-offs of the Europeans. Besides,
insanity is the ultimate dismissal!
It was too familiar, a fitting end
to the old, uniformed fascism of the two wars
gliding into the transpace of the new
hierarchical oriental fascism of beehive
conformity, industry devoted only to survival
and ruinous increase. Singularity,
the swamping of the gene swamp.
All of it fondly called
the Modern Movement by those
who fervently hope it is over
and that their banal attempt
to get rid of a whole period
by driving a stake through it
will finally give them an end
to their belaboring the scapegoat.
On the Question of God’s Tolerance
The question is intolerable—
The Lord is everywhere.
At the pagan banquet, at the orgy
In the lethal bacterium of the bath,
And in the stringent puritanisms
Which pervade the general war
Against nature and all her wanton works.