Undercover agents of a future forewarned by the ancient voices from the backroom of the universe.
Sumerian newcomers marvelled at what had come before.
The vastness of forever laid out before then.
Songs of Forever
Swimming in salmonella rivers with tangerine laughing ghosts that have seen it all before.
In awe and dusty tears of gratitude and fear. Entropic corroded gears and levers work feverishly to keep up with demand for horizons , zeniths and molecules.
Death had to be invented when the curiosity got too overwhelming and someone volunteered to go into the black cranberry night of electric soul magic.
We have been waiting ever since, killing and starving in feverish fervour .....in hidden hope that someone might get in touch and ask us to stop sending souls to the time grinder
Looking back behind the horizon
Welcome to the arrival of yesterday yet again
Against the fence as high as the night sky
Gods of legend lay dormant
Quiet and ignored
Sending gilded messengers into the disinterested void
With no return to expectant ears
Even this cosmic minute seems to stretch absurdly long
The king and keeper of the ancient galactic whirling dustbin checks the light beams of past present and future to sense the intention
Shiva, God of destruction and Arch Angel Gabriel sit at rain soaked bus stop
Tired to the cosmic core
Having exhausted all the winds of Jupiter
Made threats and promises
Ground worlds into dust
Breathed life into reluctant diamonds
Shiva turned his mighty heads to address Gabriel
The entire universe moved from left to right carrying light and gravity along
Neutrons, pulsars, black holes, minor planets and half the Pleiades pelted Gabriel
Uncomfortable and annoyed
He pulled his collar up
And instantly was taken back by fleeting memory to a summer afternoon
Laying in the deep golden grass of that Elysian field
Before it was named and sold as such
The illuminated faces of Shiva
yawed fully towards the illusion of Gabriel
True enough, Shiva, God of destruction was never one for deep thought.
But was surely having a second one now.
Last week , or the span of a star twinkle
Shiva left the predawn meeting with Tamerlane
And skipped to the favorite Beach House on the edge of Europa
Here, away from duty and toil
Shiva could absorb the TV transmission from reruns of old Laurel and Hardy, Charlie Chaplin and Abbott and Costello shows. He never really got the hang of the Three Stooges...the pretend violence and mock anger seemed pointless.
Shiva had once sat beside Oliver Hardy in a Los Angeles diner, but the internally sad actor was too immersed in the Santa Anita racing form to notice the omnipotent god vibrating on the stool beside him.
Because Kurt Vonnegut had recently repeated the common knowledge that the perceived past present and future all exist at once, it wasn't hard for anyone truly paying attention that the Arch Angel Gabriel was also resting his weary self in the small dark bar of the Chateau Marmont in 1969 California.
Gabriel had both played lead guitar in the headliner band, and simultaneously grooved to the music from the front row last night at the Fillmore.
Now...
Sitting in dim light, nursing a clear and ice cold goblet of gin, all was temporarily well.
The last transmission to some poor sod on yet another mountain top had not gone as expected.
Gabriel thought maybe he had the wrong guy, or the wrong mountain. He double checked celestial time...it was correct.
Things used to be a lot easier. Have a meeting with the all powerful, all knowing becoming of what was , is and will be.
Jot down a few notes...deliver the message to the proper person, in the proper time and place...then retreat back home for a bit.
People just don't want to listen anymore.
The barkeep at the Chateau delivered a fresh glass, chilled...a pungent slice of lemon rind, and three fingers of gin.
Gabriel knew the barkeep from the old days, when Samarkand was a popular hotspot. It was an easy relationship, neither one had to say much, as it had all been said before.
The 1969 Chateau Marmont was a great place for both of them to hideout for a spell.
Gabriel lifted the magic tonic towards towards his waiting lips. Lips ready to catch the edge of the glass. Tilt the head back slightly, tip the glass in unified motion to create the perfect connection of mouth and beverage.
Just before magical contact, Gabriel became aware of a blur of motion beside him.
The blur settled into focus with an audible pop and a bit of electrical sizzle and whiff of ozone.
A small, round-faced man in a white suit appeared on the stool next to Gabriel, wearing a fedora
hat that seemed determined to escape his head.
hat that seemed determined to escape his head.
Gabriel sighed. Under his breath, turning away slightly, he murmured "Ah,for fuck sake what now ?"
It was Mercury, the over caffeinated , darty little Roman god of messages, commerce….. and was showing up uninvited. Again.
"Gabriel! Hi Ho! Fancy seeing you here!" Mercury chirped brightly, adjusting his hat. He motioned to the barkeep for a drink, ignoring Gabriel’s increasingly sour expression.
"Not fancy. And probably not coincidence,I'm thinking" Gabriel muttered, finally taking a sip of his ice cold gin life preserver.
"What do you want, Mercury, you must be wanting something, am I right?"
Mercury leaned in conspiratorially. "Big news, big news indeed my friends from Olympus on high.
Zeus, you remember Zeus, don't you...well of course you do...Anyways he found out that Shiva's been sneaking off to Europa for reruns again. Hmmm... That won't do you know...no sirree, that won't do at all.
There’s talk of convening a celestial council. You know what that means."
Gabriel rubbed his temples. "Another cosmic intervention where nothing gets resolved, everyone yells, and someone accidentally turns a planet into tapioca?"
"Exactly!" Mercury said, delighted. "And this time, they've invited the Norse gods. Thor’s bringing mead. Odin’s bringing... well, himself."
Gabriel sighed deeply. "The last time they invited Odin, he insisted on telling the entire creation story of Yggdrasil. Twice....and...why is he so fucking angry and pompous all the time. Doesn't he ever chill and kick back for fuck's sake?"
Mercury grinned. "Yeah, all true enough, but this time he promised to bring Freyja. And let’s be honest, everyone loves Freyja. She’s got that sexy chariot rider thing going on."
Before Gabriel could retort, the bar suddenly dimmed further. A deep rumbling filled the room as Shiva materialized next to Mercury, his multiple heads wearing expressions ranging from mildly annoyed to deeply contemplative. The barkeep raised an eyebrow but didn’t pause while polishing a glass.
"Shiva," Gabriel said, swirling his gin, "I thought you were still sulking about that Tamerlane misunderstanding?"
"Changed my mind," Shiva rumbled, his voice like the tectonic plates deciding to tango. "Besides, Europa’s TV signal is on the fritz. And Laurel and Hardy are less funny when you’ve seen eternity backwards and forwards."
Mercury laughed. "Laurel and Hardy are always funny. What’s not funny is Odin insisting we take minutes at the council. You ever tried to spell 'Ragnarök' after three buckets of mead?"
Shiva ignored him, his largest head turning toward Gabriel. "I have been thinking."
Gabriel blinked. "You? Thinking?"
"Yes," Shiva replied, unbothered by the jab. "About the messengers. About us. About... this." He gestured grandly, encompassing the dimly lit bar, the world outside, and presumably the entirety of existence.
"Let me guess," Gabriel said dryly. "You're wondering why we bother sending messages to beings who don’t listen anymore."
Shiva nodded solemnly. "Exactly. We craft gilded truths, but mortals are more interested in... TikTok."
Mercury perked up. "Oh, I love TikTok! Have you seen the cat that plays the piano? Utter genius."
Shiva’s third head scowled. "That’s not the point, not even close. This is serious shit, this is existential, it has depth...maybe even ...meaning."
Gabriel leaned back, his wings shifting slightly under his trench coat. "Maybe the point is the absurdity. Messages don’t matter. Listening doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s all just one big cosmic slapstick routine , going round and round forever and a day.
Shiva considered this, his many hands stroking his many chins. "So, ...what... we are the Laurel and Hardy of the cosmos?"
"More like Abbott and Costello," Mercury quipped. "Who's on first, I fucking love that one, such a classic"
The three of them paused, each lost in their own thoughts. Outside, the rain picked up, pattering against the windows like the ticking of some indifferent cosmic clock.
"Maybe," Gabriel said finally, "it’s not about whether they listen. Maybe it’s about sending the message anyway. The act of doing it. The hope that someone, somewhere, might hear."
Shiva’s largest head smiled faintly. "A spark in the void. A joke told to an empty room."
"Exactly," Gabriel said, raising his glass. "Here’s to cosmic comedy."
Mercury grabbed his own drink and raised it. "And to Freyja’s chariot driver costume!."
Shiva lifted a chilled goblet of something that shimmered like liquid starlight. "And to... whatever THIS is."
They clinked their glasses together. As the bar settled back into its timeless haze, a strange and subtle sound rippled through the universe: the faintest echo of laughter, as if the cosmos itself was in on the joke.
Shiva, with his feet up against the roof of the sky, black cranberry night of electric soul magic, leaned back a smiled deeply with pleasure and all knowing.
images by Mike Pearson and ChatGPT
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