It is a common fallacy that Necronomicon mean 'Book Of The Dead' when it would, if a real word, mean The Book Of Dead Names, which seems appropriate for a certain social media site, given that the majority of its claimed billion plus members are false names, alter egos or no longer active in the site.
(For the record I am on Facebook but only communicate with a few people)
Picture: Ancient cross marking an Anglo Saxon burial ground, Whaaley, Lancashire.
The wisdom of the ancestors,
the opinion of the crowd
shall give way to the decbels
of those who shout most loud.
The goats will wander randomly
until they meet Azazel
while the sheep all crowd together
in a fearful, bleating rabble.
Looking for a leader,
herded by the sleekit dog,
they grab each meme,
false or obscene,
worship the demagogue
who preaches hymns of progress,
equality and collectivism,
a world of bland conformity,
the end of individualism.
But hours spent on the necronomicon,
communing with dead names
have conditioned the unthinking
to depend on social media games.
Surviving the internet panopticon
as they surf the 'trending' wave
requires total anonimity
from the unthinking Facebook slave.
David Hightower’s lyrically expansive meditation on the whims of fate and the unpredictability of the human condition fill the pages of THE HANGING MAN DREAMS with thrilling music and mesmerizing imagery. Hightower’s richly infused voice echoes the e
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