Chronicles of Occulus

Part 1 The Dut-Munglar

The thing about the rumours about the dut-munglar

is your not even sure that you’ve heard them.

From the Fluffy cavern of my pocket.

Shoots my hand as quick as a rocket.

To pull forth the dut-Munglars memory card,

It Written in scribbles so reading was hard.

“The dut-Munglar has its own time.

Just before late so you will never wait.

But nothing will matter, when you see the platter.

The kind off things you cant really dream of.

If your chemical self doesn’t agree with your physical disposition

And your financial wealth doesn’t agree with your mystical religion

Send a call across the range.

And pool your dreams, that feeling ain’t strange.

Simple chemical leisure.

Its is what we do for leisure.

Forget your units theres is no need to measure,

The line line toward your hidden treasure.”

After reading my neurons organized

Formed like a memory to be revised.

Twas Snuck into my head as soft as kiss,

The card had created an experience to reminisce.

As the next moment evolved

The card then dissolved

And As Soon I was done reminiscing

A burst smoke of smoke starts hissing.

Then a Folded up figure, thats paper thin

Comes Inter-dimensionally gliding in,

Then unfolds fresh up, smarting rude-boy bling,

In full 3d, so I knew it' was the real thing.

Twas a shady back-dimensional trader.

On the prowl for a cosmic crusader

With the stare of a farm yard pig

And the pout of a dried up fig.

Both, Unaware of the potential for a fantastical plot.

I casually ask what “Well what have got”

A clear plastic bag then appears for my eyes,

Before he so confidently replies...

“I have nothing but what you cant attain,

I have things this world cant maintain.

With my Position Off a geometric plane,

Ill do you a wallet reduction and a spiritual gain”

Just I was thinking “ooh this sound like fun”

Then A menu then unravels from his tongue .

Trojan pony for a mind invasion.

Dessert scourge dry thought abrasion.

Study munchers for those number crunchers

Disco chompers for those party stompers

Pure distilled gutts of evil keneval

This Nietzsche shit is beyond good and evil

A line of dry tears to keep you up crying all night.

I got a salt crystal, to help you look your fight.

infinite mirror to observe yourself watching

Mung dungly to aid yourself cotching

Bet-a-min so you don’t loose to much gambling

Sock-it-in so you don’t do too much rambling.

MCMA to master the art of rap

Violet drip-witts for jokes on tap.

Whoaa whaao

“Hold up dude

I don’t want to sound rude.

Yeah, they all sound mental,

But i'm looking for something a bit more transcendental.

I don’t want you to think i'm a junky,

But can I get something beyond funky.

“Ohhh , So you want the unreal deal,

Well one is Class (ί), and is highly illogical,

And proper paradoxical

Im sure you know what to do

But still I wouldnt get caught out by the laws of physics if I was you.

As an explanation of this will never be correct.

Because this one is so (blank) you cant even gesture to its effect.

No-one will know what you will find,

With an eye full of needle of pure Trojantine Blind.”

I was like yeah, to seal the deal

And With syringe made of hardened molecular steel

A point is then inserted. and my vision becomes inverted

Then the dut-munglar proceeds with a cheeky grin,

To Gradually suck my irises in.

And When my vision became a cross section

My retinas twisted in new direction.

Bending my glance, and allowing it to become slanted sidewards...

Part 2 Tronjantine Blind

With a glance slanted sidewards.

I noticed that I had just realised.

That a being cognited my perception,

Forging image from all direction.

It glided as it galloped, and swam behind the air.

As Its features carved visualisation

An appearance turned to representation.

It then spoke, before it mentioned.

"Theres place without location,

That spins beyond rotation.

A data research centre,

that you exit before you enter.

First convert your all experience’s, into correct proper deliriances.

For your memories have been switch reversed,

You have left it, just before we conversed!”

Then Before it could go, it left, dissolving as it appeared gone.

With a flap-flash slither-step roll,

Slithering its back-up downwards, through the broken skys.

As its words left the present, I followed them closely past there.

With a compass now forth-guided, I went off, and on my way.

Down the Möbius highway, as it circled the outer centre, joining the edges straight.

I took the last left, and passed it right down to junction forward.

And when my location was currently synchronised,

Where it was, it appeared.

Off the centre of the edge, in distant foreground.

A variable location centre point for beings on there way.

Condensed, collapsible, unrefined shrine.

Walls like sticky greased ether,

But the side wasn’t enough to make it whole,

So it had a front and back, all-ways from every angle.

Pushed to be square like a cylinder, like the Four-Sided Triangle.

I dismounted the air and folded myself in.

Slid back forward, right off to left, as I exited the inner entrance.

The preliminary lobby broke apart connected.

Following forward the matt glistening of my feet ran towards the main gallery.

Speaking inwards at its mouth, an opening proceeded its meaning.

and The Mandelbrot Theatre appeared, then arrived and entered.

This was a surely a new form of sight in a new form of site.

The Air was Enveloped in opposing truths.

And was Glimmering black nothing all over my glazed expression.

My eyes dotted away the symbols of abstraction

and were duly expanded directionally.

But Parallel to my retinal inversion, was a glint on a discarded alter.

Was that a pair of clear tinted left monocles?

They where Reaching towards my control

So I doused my vision in the clean light refracted,

Bending back my glance, and allowing it to become fronted forwards.

Shared by one, divided by nothing

My selves became many and one of us too ,

And we met again for the first time,

When I invited my alternate here.

We the danced the white light frequency.

When our interference was steadily uneven

we folded together from touching

to dissolve our plurality of pasts.

Out of respect for the singular now

After I awakened from my awakening.

I was bruised after tripping over my self

and was a bit worried I had fragmented my soul.

So I reached into my pocket for dut-munglars card again,

But this time I was a bit more sensible and asked for spray of anti-paridoxical