From a 35,000 Word Run-On Sentence!

Warning: do NOT read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious.
The Poetry in My Balzac
“A run-on sentence”
By Wolf Larsen

My Penis! — My Penis the conqueror! — the great world that is My Penis! — My Penis is discovering a world of vaginas! — as the drums give birth to a new mind! — as all these cyclones become my own! — and now this new sky becomes my property! — and now the run-on sentence & the drums are becoming twins — they are becoming an incestuous husband & wife— because the drums look for words, and the words look for rhythms — and we abandon our testicles to the winds — and our spermatozoa flies away and impregnates some new planet with our poetry & music — and the people are delighted — and the machines are delighted — and machines & people are having sex with each other — because you & I are a new creation — we are man married to computer — we are sky married to earth — because computers are invading our minds — and we are invading the minds of computers – and our hearts beat with computers — and we have our orgasms all over the computers — because computers are our sex — we are reproducing through computers — and now the great drums speak — we create new paintings through the drums — only the sky can hold us down now — and the computers ITCH to reproduce — because the sky is not our own — because this sky is definitely our own... Because our spermatozoa & poetry are one — because the words are searching for some new medium – because the words want to become painting — because the hieroglyphics invading our brains with computer code is the scariest spermatozoa – we have to re-scramble our brains – we have to become a new human race – we have to build new temples – temples of sex – temples of violence – temples of wonder – we must build temples galore all over the universe to the greatness of our penises & vaginas! – Because this sentence will run-on into the great combined orgasms of all the gods that have ever existed! – because rhythm is what we dance and create words with – because we are an example of apes run amok – apes run amok amongst paintings & classical music & classical sculpture, because literature is thousands of buildings piled on top of each other, because the poem wants to be a worldwide sex, because literature wants to be the greatest orgy that was ever born, because this new orgy is the art being created in my testicles, and my testicles are everywhere!, My testicles are in the drums!, My testicles are in your brains!, My world is in your tomorrow!, Because I don’t know which left is East!, Because your lips are my East!, You run around & around the poem stabbing it here & there, but the poem runs around you and jumps over you & under you & to the side while you slash about with your pen your knife your paintbrush your penis, because this is the greatest orgasm you’ve ever had — because all your orgasms are made out of poetry — because the fluid running in your vagina is this poem, because too many whoops is in your WoW, because so much WoW is in your brains...

Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen