Stop that Speech

Swirl ice-cream cones one-third the volume of a cylinder of some base same base circle and same height in altitude Z axis mountains of Japan where live Zen monks composing hokku haiku five-seven-five to make seventeen in three – all prime numbers and that is no coincidence serendipitous realization of words for what you see when you look ahead at Mt. Fuji remember the frogs that sat on lily pads croaking all the time only to jump into the still old pond with a plonk creating ripples against the teachings of the Buddha with achieved stillness of minds a pebble thrown into an old pond wielding walking-sticks wearing spectacles to protect them from the sun with films of darkness on the little squares of glass not violet light of ultra or red of infra to get through to the eyes – sun, gun shooting stars shooting hot rays cathodes and anodes shooting across unidentified rays when a beam of electrons hit a band that plays heavy-metal music antichrist superstar one eye black and the other white monochrome beauties married for years with killers screaming the words of songs and some remade old tunes about the ingredients of the sweetest of dreams – did they sing in their bathrooms when they were taking a shower with bubbling blueberry scented bubbles shampoo and coconut conditioner in the late evening breeze that stayed on and overstayed its welcome till midnight – midnight cool cold breeze of this night of sodium vapour yellow light of nostalgia to stop that speech to let silence prevail and stay, stay, stay – no one really knows, you know?