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Subject: {ASSM} from TxM6 Murder of Geli Raubal Mf
Date: Mon, 24 Jul 2000 05:10:04 -0400
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From TxM6 Taxi Murders Sextet Hyperfiction Novel
http://www.taximurders.com/enfer
TxM6 is entirely a work of fiction for adults only.
Copyright (c) 2000 Sean Farragher
THE REICHSTAG FIRE
The Murders of Geli Raubal & Laurie Fallon
DAY 1, LA RIOTS. JUDICIAL RIOT. POLICE FREED. HYPOCRITES.
RODNEY KING BEATEN FOR BEING IN WRONG PLACE AT RIGHT TIME.
ARMAGEDDON, DEAR NSDAP-
Tuesday, 27 February 1933, Berlin
Marinus Van Der Lubbe confessed. He did it, he said to
protest capitalism? How petty! Impossible. Like poor Rodney
King beaten noble, they said.
"The fire engines had arrived just before ten and by then,
the Session Chamber of the Reichstag was in flames. After
Chancellor Hitler saw the red sky above the Tiergarten, he
shouted, "It's the Communists," and later in a secret meeting
he told Vice Chancellor Franz von Papen and Goebbels: "if
this fire, as I believe, is their work, then."
INTERLUDE:
Future Reichsmarschall Hermann G ring, "brown hat turned up
in front, was immense in a camel hair coat" emerging from the
Reichstag fire as if he were derived from sour smoke, arrived
there first at Holocaust after the alarm had sounded, so they
have said in Caesar's Commentaries.
...Excerpts from the theater of the absurd: "Consider, Adolf
Hitler didn't order the murder of 10,000,000 Jews, gypsies,
Russians, Poles, and non-conformist Germans." Zionist hoax!
Right!
Why shed words for blood. What nonsense." Exactly, Just like
the damn fire and the guilty fakery inspired divine
manifestation. Ghosts had been foreshadowed.
The end: more of Armageddon.
Consider how loss of an exact word stains the accidental
margin. Searching for the word "Armageddon (now, it is
found)," there it was with Agamemnon, King (not condition of
war), and a new context, associated network allusion (Good
golly dear matrix) for the whole of the work-- not just the
part of a part.
Father murdered daughter (Iphigenia) murdered father
(Clytemnestra). Herein, Electra, his daughter. Where art thou
Oedipus.
Medley of Free Style Ideas by Henry
Prick or stick. Pubis or Vulva, sweet pear. What colossal
waste we "river run" at best the death were last and then
first when the ovens repeal nature. What ghost, thy ash and
dust will fumigate what passed for loss.
What secrets sexual surprise (no prick or cunt but both at
once) we rose up (just as tyrants do) as we place child near
heart and then knee. We were sick with distortion as old
power was dying the flower losing its heart as pale roses
weep petals, as Herr Hitler told the children a mixed lot of
boys and girls 6 and 7 years or some times less gathered
secretly for service to the Fatherland. He saw the rightful
murder and was himself murdered by Stalin in his own leash.
That is another day and a less corrupt story.
Lebensraum, dear Pedophile.
What an experimental womb you masked taking ash from the
camps the Jews and communists and faggots, as you put it,
were burned beside fallen Nazis and some prurient religious
folk who had stolen gold from beneath the sacristy. He loved
to hobble children with his personal mirror.
Hitler discriminated when he pushed the lock and the railroad
of human cried emptied like the slower freight riding across
the Siberian hills. Every day was more than just one more murder.
Human disposal of history made a mockery of Kant.
"My niece said yes," Shickelgruber cried. What forms we will
build from soap, and then carving some, Hitler laughed as
another needle was cut into his arms. Stalin kept Hitler in a
special prison until he himself died. In prison Hitler knew
that daily torture. Most were amazed the man lived through it.
Finally, Hitler was taken out by be burned alive in a local
crematorium. A Jew from Moscow made the choice. She had lost
all in the war and a good Communist she wanted to kill more
than the ideas.
SORORICIDE: THE MURDER OF LAURIE CATHERINE FALLON
FACT: CAN YOU IMAGINE HER NOT ALIVE
"The Factory": Saturday, July 11, 1992 (3:52 PM)
Herr Abel a.k.a. Antonio Joseph Corvino (affectionately known
as Tony) from the future tense brought Laurie to her end or
so he would believe.
No, mother fucker, God shouted. She will not die. You will
and God made it so. First God gave Laurie playing God for the
day help Laurie kill Fr ulein Death Head SS named Maria-Therese
Corvino. Her head was swollen shut when she died in childbirth.
God told Laurie. She may have strong hands and her lovely throat
was crushed with hands, wire, or rope. A second set of hands
crushed her mind when she felt death suddenly switch between
"Goyim" and "y h d y."
Two.
"Heaven takes the corpse and weaves it within flame," Abel sang.
That is what I construct. Just remains and the dear art I
surprise hiding underneath the bleachers. Watch them fuck,
and you will be late, Edward, Mother shouted. My girl friend
wants to give you a bath.
Mother why do you call me away into dreams. I understand the
confusion. Many dogs have no hands and then with Matisse the
dream had no passageway.
We can never assume that place. I am not sure of you,
Fr ulein Son. Perhaps, you are a secret communist with your
fragrant lust and homophile pursuits.
We are not Jews, you know, nor Gypsies, and could never
become as Gods not even for the facts that truth preferred
when wisdom sleep. The Nazis are hideous offal.
Herr Himmler satisfied that he was the special undertaker and
was in no danger. We wrote the railroad regulations that
permitted the trains an efficient entry into the camps.
I stepped down when I was done. I loved the Jews. I fucked
them often when in school. I never discriminated, There is
danger, as you know, when you report angry history falsely. I
stepped down, he lied before we murdered Jews and do not
forget the gypsies and Communists to free the evidence and to
make all workers free not just the offal, as you stated
above. Read it again. No, I did not. I said you were the
shit.
Ignore logic Christ Tina said, Hitler cried.
There is a reasonable swoon when 20 million die in ten years.
All tales are spatial links between the sediments as one eon
twisted in the rip tide and swept under the primal pond
emerged where else in this time with Antonio at the head.
Dark murders contrived to feed Hitler his psychopathic art.
He said his needs are above ordinary moral space. Hear my
hands on your heart. You don't. I only harvest what my sister
marks as if death were a sour soup to be drunk with a dear
cunt as appetizer and then for lunch.
"Remember, Roosevelt another Jew will be F hrer in America in
a fortnight," G ring said, spoken out of nowhere.
"Herr Hitler does not appreciate American democratic
"disorder" as the pleasure and pain of a great public fire or
an election.
As G ring's guilt unraveled so did the ashes for blame was
circus and ring master. G ring wore scars and an absurd
uniform. The Russians did not pour petrol from his flasks.
Why waste it. We may die in the steppe without it. Take him
to Stalin. Let him suck Stalin to live. Good cock suckers are
easy to find, but hard to keep alive when Stalin fucks their
ass every day.
Sparks unsettled the universal drive. Spiral settlement set.
Stalin remembered Van Gogh beyond stolen paintings from the
Lourve or private hands.
Behold, fighting nausea. When that bloody ear attached itself
again and God rewarded the murderer of Hitler with a scarlet
scene taken from Rubens.
Blaming the Socialist, the Republic and the Jews was easier
for righteous commentary (Zion) than explaining what needed
to be done to make the master more than the state or the
general body politic.
Unfortunately, Jean Jacques (not Henri) was too much Rousseau
and too little C zanne. After that terrified war, paintings
stolen from us, we were lonely and we were the only suitors.
Too bad, we had planned the executions before the marriage.
The gifts and Priest had been paid; and the bride was over
eager perhaps (what she said in the deposition), for
consummation, but she was open for the Romans, the Huns, and
the Celts before us, as the rivers Oder, Elbe and Rhine raged
through the white water migraines and psychotic nightmares
assembled from that unconscious longing we have named
Electra.
"No one believed in a mad red Dutch men in too short long
pants, half frozen with contempt; starving for Communism; how
could he have given birth to the Holocaust. Good excuse,
perhaps, but bad history, most certainly. Another sacred
trust for a delicate conspiracy of diplomats to unsettle.
Imagine, the future or the past: what if they said that the
Arch Duke and his wife had been murdered not by an anarchist.
Or what if Herr Hitler, in Mein Kampf, had been a clairvoyant
like that sixteenth century French physician and astrologer,
Nostradamus, Der F hrer could have predicted not only the
assassination in 1963 of Diem, Kennedy and Oswald (what
lovely Anti-Christ we collected) but the murder by History of
all tyrants, sycophants, and poseurs as Herr Lenin had said:
What a fool History would be to make our design so easy an
excuse for Pandemonium set in motion by a failed lunatic,
artist, and messenger
corporal.
Who said, do not kill the messenger"? Who is this empty room,
Marinus Van Der Lubbe? Now, we must assign purpose to all who
have arrived late from the failed trains. Ma me speak what is
necessary God asked and not what you cannot use.
Once upon a time, "God knew our hearts were pure that day."
Hans Frank remembering that January 30th when von Hindenburg
named Herr Hitler, Chancellor. "Oh, Hitler, let us applaud. I
admire death as the architects and the Doctors of the
crematorium."
Man Called Abel -- 13 July 1992 The Murder of an Ancient
Child Recalled.
Slouching in wrinkled trench coat, Herr Hitler, whip in hand,
abed, stood tall, free forward from the unwrapped ease he
bestowed before nodding to his half niece, Angela Maria
Raubal (Geli), already dead.
She leaned off the bed, to the left side, half on the floor,
bending unnaturally across the blue crocheted blanket, now
forever blood stained red, as if it would absorb all her
anguish and push her forward living again.
Hitler hid it all, covering the stains as if he had
sacrificed a chicken or a
dog; what a bloody mess, he had strangled and then shot the
young woman with a resilient wire, garroted when she slept
naked, curled into her thumb beside the skirt of her cunt.
It was not the first time he had abused her. Once, when she
was much, much younger, (barely out of grade school) he came
to her bath having heard the running water and her squeals as
she stepped into her bath; The F hrer remembered the dirt,
cold and gas from the trenches, when he was blind, strangled
from mustard chant, and he imagined the too hot water
surmised from her stumbled pre adolescent shout.
Entering the door snapped shut and was difficult to reopen.
Turning the handle quickly, his sister Paula was not a home,
not that she would have stopped him, not then at least, but
he knew she was gone for at least the better part of the day,
not to return to much, much later. It did not matter.
Alone, the F hrer opened the door, walked two steps forward,
splashing water on himself to make his skin feel fresh and
with less stink.
Geli simply said "Uncle," turning her back, chattering a
laugh and then a shriek, and then slowly, opening, chin high,
twisting back to show herself, only now, he was gone, and she
could not see him, in the next room, doubled up in rage,
invisible waiting on his bed for a vision of the Apocalypse.
Hitler answered it, blaming the Jews for his transgression,
having led her willing to his bed, Geli said Uncle again, "du
bist" he heard the endearment as a whistle waiting for his
hands to stop shaking, he could not cup her legs or swallow
the scent of the soap on her skin. The next night He was gone
when she
returned to his room.
For Angels, nothing eased escape. It was done. A wire caught
her larynx, and crushed it. Breath, even asleep, immediately
swollen as the knot in his balls or that gristle above her
pee hole, as Geli rubbed it; it was pleasant to finish,
roughly before, and that was not all that was done. A coup de
gr ce struck and was his personal gift: a bullet in the
heart, for a second death, and not as after-thought, but as a
final crease for closure and just maudlin sentiment.
Murder came as a shift of skin or the lack of luster shaking
hand aftermath with the stripped body in the morgue, as some
specimen, as a turtle might hide its shell and butchered, its
patched belly more than a target.
We cannot deny what we are not or yes; I cannot stand it,
this resurgence. He believes in German destiny.
On the witness stand in Nuremberg, Geli pointed to Eva, and
then SS Director, Himmler as over lords.
Second she told how the SS, my lovely female killers, who run
the last sacrifice. We held court as a miserable tableaux:
blood has its own level, flesh another, intention and the
will to power blocked as a social face, see the mirror in
that piece of soul.
Antonio's wife and sister, Maria-Therese watched from history
as the murders crept out of the train yards becoming a soap
factory. Voyeurs watching the Jews die laughed and Laurie
cried from her grave. Alive she accepted it all and returned
to her privileged seat.
Yes, Hitler said, she was torn by the lush hips of the drunk
Jew who took her passion, as a cold swarm, didn't know Geli,
as she hunted, as Tony would years later, as his sister Maria
did.
My Paula did make me blush. Mother held my mouth to her tit
making me suck, feeding me what I couldn't spit back,
choking, she would laugh as my stiff wang was appropriately
made into glue.
I was in the trenches when the oil and lamp shut down, and
that black skin burned without any other notions. I kept that
notion in my pocket. What
a splendid silver watch.
She rose as a white devil from and inside shadows. Lifting
legs up to expose her cunt she parted heavens, and lifted out
all the Jewish girls as undeveloped child. She swallowing her
own caul as a treatise on health that was still birth warm as
the blood oozed festering as a blizzard of white pulp
resisted falling.
Exposing her belly, opening all of the air and storms,
upholding a terrible clamor in the ideal hour made the church
bells ring and rang from Munich to Perth. My belly will
tremble and expose the misery, Laurie fantasized.
It is my religious offering Laurie tendered it easily without
one thought. I am really a fake witch she confessed.
I was blind when the armistice came. I was hysterical and the
peace was too short before the answer: We heard only screams.
Ten million trenches. Dig up the gardens let them out as the
lathe carves human bones, soft, now covered in Plaster,
twiddling.
The bombs will fall on the bunker. Take poison, Hitler said
to Fr ulein Braun as dream and excuse.
As the particles of cosmic splendor revived when the living
white coated hand attached emerged as vocal sign for possible
death.
As a force might purgatory became a louder hell. When you
live there as a darling scream, some OM ...OM, as exultation
is a mask for the world of Oz and a bleached child whore
while mouthing pricks dangling from the wires, gagging on the
semen of a Prince of a dog so she claimed taken down from the
cemetery cross.
She must have been eleven or twelve, they said-- not twenty-
three.
Dark thin eyes, flirting and luminous are nourishment;
Fr ulein Braun had plodded through the ashes. She was our
daughter, my prince, she said.
I was jealous and killed her. Wait, Geli, he said, dear
niece, thy true sex is within this veiled mouth: peer inside
at the aspect of the vulva where the true tongue connects.
Thy hair is shaved, be praised. Open the urethra, piss.
Afterwards, nothing was heard, while they played the video
and set up the virtual reality desk top CPU a lot of years
distant from this first fling, so
the man called Tony dreamed, when Hitler visited, and Maria
(transposed) fucked so good he told his sister Paula. My, is
it not strange what death can do now that we know thy harvest
will be done.
Five million more or less. Ten billion light years, a second
of flux. Contraction of mass in an instant and a light
(convection currents) so bright a billion suns, make Iron
crosses dear Nova. Make the heart a deadly wall, dear Sun.
Kill German Brown Shirts.
Count the years between 1933 and now (what is it?
EVERLASTING), and make the political circus open its doors. I
play, dear sister. I play. Where are the arms you left
behind? I need them desperately now.
Dead, Geli Raubal: 18 September 1931, age 23:
Behind the liver, dear son, my child, she answered what is
Eva like, thy pregnant daughter Geli Raubal has asked from
death.
A bullet in the heart, is best, dear lonesome waif, speaking
to a photograph, thy legs were open for the Jew artist from
Linz, and you played his prick, whore. Hitler cried on the
couch over her body.
The weapon was a 6.34 caliber pistol warm in his hands as her
dead cunt had been or her mouth.
Yes, her lips parted natural brown and red which Hitler wet
with his own spit. When thy belongings were thrown as dear
Jews you will marched through the walls, as he spoke, Dear
Father, as I pray.
Hello Dear Jew, Abel cried. You beat my back until I shook to
death. Inside black mustard gas, my curse, more than ten
years earlier dear Mother, (Klara P lzl) dead from Cancer
(1907), and that murderous iodoform administered to her by
Catholic physician, and my eyes hurt forever.
Hitler said, and I cannot fly, you see, I am trapped, dear
wedded Geli, when you suck God now, when you look up watch my
eyes and run the theme as the liquid goes.
Tony (dearest Abel) spoke from his window, and said,
mesmerized by historical mutation and the possible
conversions his morbid sculpture that Hitler had pruned from
each corpse, human and mean.
How could that propaganda tempt the masses, mislead the
faithful, those nondescript moils who praised God and Hitler
to the highest.
The Cardinals lead the worship listening again to the
tribunes from Rome.
More American Adventures in erotica and other works by Sean Farragher:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Sean_Farragher/
Sean Farragher
Poetry Site: http://www.farragher.com
TxM6 Sites:
http://www.taximurders.com
http://www.taximurders.com/enfer
http://www.taximurders.com/lcfallon
http://www.taximurders.com/paradisio (forthcoming)
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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