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Lawrence Hall Jan 2019
Humans to Download Their Souls onto Microchips
                                          So They Can Live Forever

                                                        ­  -Headline

And so all hopes and dreams and fears and loves -
That beautiful girl who kissed you one night
Your after-school job, your first little car
Recruit training, your Navy buddies, the sea

Your wedding day, your children at their play
Your coffee pals at the Old Men’s Café
The songs you wrote, the dreams you dreamed, your - self
Light-beamed and streamed into a little pill

The chip was lost; in someone else’s drive it sits -
He replaced your soul with Elvis’ greatest hits
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.


Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
Mote Sep 2015
crawlways aching for the idiot. that's me. that's a little harsh. we're only even with the world, then I wake up and ask for applesauce, or applause, because I'm a great tesseract under a strong thumb. so, are you snatching the smoke from my wildfire, the iron from my soil? I meant from my soul? no, sarcasm is ok. now how to be unmade into mulch and microchips! it's a wonder what they think of me, the foxglove in khaki pants, fire to herself, moody animal - too hispanic for their sun. resigned to being the mouth kissed for good luck, the cave-eyed ******* of a piece of gold and a cup of mud. now, to give up the secret password -
dj May 2012
Shut your ******* mouth

And help me super-glue 
this flap of skin back to my face
Lock the door.

(Microchips & Grind-gears coo
Behind that rubbery facade
An Android god
A Hissing machinery zoo in there
Clamping hydraulics; what a scare)

Hurry!
No one can see this -
It's not even ****** for Pete's sake

It doesn't get better 
There was nothing wrong 
To begin with.
I am perfect, remember?
Wink wink
But really,
*How long until this glue dries?
Inspired by Darci Mason from the animated Superman seris
Vivian Oct 2014
rivers of salt; saccharine silicon and
iridescent nightmares;
kids carve their names into trees
because their concept of forever is
three summers forward;
entropy demands a tithe, a
forfeiture of lives; decimate your herds
and still
no, it is not enough.
know it is not enough.

don't keep your sweet little mouth
open too long; sugar attracts flies,
and pretty soon your
teeth will be teeming
with maggots and rot,
streptococcus sanguis
cheerfully wearing down your enamel
like you wore down my inhibitions.
"it'll be fun," you said, dropping
one hundred milligrams
on your tongue, firmly grasping the back
of my neck, and applying your lips to mine.
one hundred milligrams
slide down my throat, and despite myself,
I laugh, because even when I'm scared
I want to be with you.

the Black Angel is God On Earth; she is
lonely beyond belief, and I give her a hug.
people forget that monsters have
feelings too, and
God?
God is the biggest monster of them all.

God is entropy, and she is
unimpressed by the pyramids
on your dollar bills; she will devour
the stars and the planets and newborn
babies swaddled in blankets,
and she yet hungers:
redwoods and sequoias and aloe vera,
microchips and inkjets and MacBooks.

we are crowded around the bonfire,
s'mores and cheap liquor, your hand on
my thigh; the heavens have
opened up, drenching us
in starlight: I have never felt more
beautiful. you raise my wrist to your
mouth, placing a gentle kiss on my
scaphoid and my lunate; you swipe
your tongue across supple flesh
before clamping down with your teeth;
I am seeing stars and feeling lovely
and I am so, so enamored with you and
so, so happy you are here.
HAD TO DO IT ONE TIME FOR #NATIONAL #POETRY #DAY
BB Tyler Dec 2010
The remnants of last night's nova
lay scattered in tatters on the patterns
of ballroom linoleum.
Flattened bottles and kids
full throttle on people petroleum.
They whisper, "we're full of them
deaths 'guised as holy gems,"
but no one could hear
through the decoding of the exploding star,
the eroding of that foreboding bazaar,
not even the one whispering,
loose lips left ajar.

The remnants of last night's nova;
it began with a beat.
Melody sweet was distorted just to show the
flipped switch kids who retorted just to grow numb,
with ditched brain space aborted just to know dub,
or love the microchips imported just to throw the
blasting bass bubbles of sound
into the ground,
spinning around,
until they come down,
to frown at flowers
powered by the eye of the storm.
Where it's the norm
for their forms
to be torn from their static.

The remnants of last night's nova
was an illness of stillness;
of dripping dead glow sticks
that knows this
fist in your chest clenched tight,
and the sight of last night,
and the fading lights
just show this restlessness
is not the best of this bright.
The love fights muttered
through shutters of others
echoed soft cotton swab colors
in sunrise skies,
and despised eyes,
and reprized "why?s"
to inspire white lies.

The remnants of last night's nova
are gone.
inspired by candy kids, light shows, and bass. PLUR
Copyright: Bennett Tyler
Shaded Lamp Jun 2014
Rippling down the stream
Of many peoples consciousness
An effervescent future life
Stripped of this abhorrent distress

A future filled with study
Free for each and every human being
A world with no false borders
A world with far less disagreeing

And a universal language
Forged with available technology
That translates in real time
Enhanced with anthropology

Giving us a precise understanding
Of how each other achieve solutions
A pragmatic communication
Circumnavigating ****** revolutions

We would calculate the earths resources
And how to evenly distribute them
Then we would dispose of pointless cash
Like ill people dispose of phlegm

Our centralised political weasels
That do far more harm than good
Would be replaced by microchips
Programmed to not be misunderstood

It is an interesting proposal
To those with a humane conscience
But to those smugly enjoying advantage
I guess it is annoying nonsense

So we must wait for millions to be displaced
For total world economic collapse
The greedy spoilt brats will listen then
Or will they continually relapse?
I am inspired by The Venus Project and Zeitgeist Movement. I am also utterly ashamed of how we act as a species to each other and our shared planet. There is hope!
Francie Lynch May 2022
The papers are wet with ink.
Russia is losing it's war.
North Korea is swamped with the Covid.
Tucker is backpedaling his replacement theory.
Finland and Sweden are enrolling.
Armament shipments are making a difference.
The Pope is apologizing.
That needs repeating: The Pope is apologizing.
(But why stop with the Aboriginals. Consider the Jews and Irish).
Fossil fuels are on the decline.
(plastic microchips are in our fat)
I can still buy Roundup.
Tobacco is banned in most public places here.
*** is not.
There are more drunks, and more behind bars, and in front.
We have safe injection sites.
I have robots asking me if I'm a robot.
There are more tv stations selections.
TV is not worth watching.
LPs are making a comeback.
Right to Life is Wrong for Many.
... and on... and on
Crystal June Jun 2016
And I'm here in this little glass house,
On display for the robots next-door --
The last of human life
Trapped in a box with translucent locks
In this paradisiacal paradox.

The suburbs are where dreams go to die.
Look at that cool-guy dad of three
With a car from 1970
Who doesn't get a wink of sleep,
And for dinner he eats batteries.

He wasn't supposed to be like this,
Spending more time with his therapist
Than with his mechanizing kids.

Love is sending them as far away as possible
Before they're condemned to your same tragic fate.

Their precious internal organs are slowly being swapped and traded with engine parts,
So that their chests hum rather than beat --
And wheels are used more often than feet.

Extension cords for intestines
And oil for blood,
Plug them in to sleep at night
So that they may be fully charged and operational tomorrow.

They are constantly being programmed in the greatest form of mass production known to man.
(Well, what's left of him.)

Cookie cutter children with magnetic hands,
Always grabbing and attracting new parts to attach to themselves.
Chewing microchips like bubblegum,
Transferring data as a form of fun.

It's "cool-guy dad 2.0."
He's outdated now,
Useless apart from nurturing the new generation that will ultimately cause his demise.

Oh, what a time to be alive.
To be a human on display in an industrial neighborhood.
(And don't even get me started on the soccer moms.)
The suburbs get to me sometimes (a.k.a. all the time).
j carroll May 2013
when i begin to free-wheel
and shudder with contempt
i take comfort in the thought
that we are mostly born to fail.

honey-slow days are steeped in loss,
marinated in missed opportunities
sweetly whistling tunes that pipe
"all is well because all will be, regardless."

my life might have no payoff
to the meandering silk i weave
and death could prove a hostel,
relief from what i was born to carry.

effort always looks to me
like a lack of priorities
while i jealously guard potential
and covet their delusions.

i'm a coward gently born
to soft beds and microchips
and indulgence of my worst self
when i am too afraid to move.

i am worried i am a narcissist
for wanting to keep breathing
soon picnics and parties become noble acts
proof of love through self-flagellation.

i've heard that poets see farther
but i don't even know metric units
so how can i tell anyone how far ahead
the beginning begins and the end ends?
in any order
Jon Tobias Nov 2012
It sits nearly weightless in your palm
Hold it like a bible
with the page already marked in your head that you want to share
Like that page contains the only truth that you know

The closest to a magic wand you will ever get to
The only spell your voice
Speak honest
While words are still meant for this
Your mouth a shotgun for my tracks

Now dance

Follow my lead
Pick up your phone
And call someone

Pick one

1
While you were still earth
And I was still earth
And the thought of us
Sounded like a 4 year old learning to whistle
We had no stake
Just a note in the background of breath and baby teeth
You make me so happy
Your parents ****** on the day they did
2
If you were to die in any way
I want you to know
I have already planned your eulogy
It is simple
My name is Jonathen Hal Tobias
And this empty case of skin and bone
Formerly housed
The best friend I have ever had in my life
3
Your belly is a blackened furnace
Full of soot and sawdust
It is love the way it keeps me warm
And I will leave my hands near it
The distance of a magic spell for fire
My skin
Until there is no more sawdust
Until there is no more love
Until I have to warm my hands with breath
And press them against your cold black
Do you feel that?

4
Whatever you say
Through satellite
Over airwaves

Know your voice passes through stars
And metal
And microchips
And speaker

There is tongue
And breath and lips
Your heart when you’re honest

When words were meant for this
And your mouth a shotgun for my tracks
PJ Poesy Apr 2016
He stands solidly still, a malformation
Rush hour commuters about him whirl
Arrival or departure in subway station?
Intrans intelligence, subconscious swirl
Isolated, his mind in  most violent hurl

Facing whole extent of impertinent data
Comatose commuter suffers info slow-mode
Wife, boss, kids all part in sub-matter
Too much for one brain to devour, decode
Cell phones, microchips, transistor’s overload

Components lack tactile connection
Wavelengths of broadcasts, meltdown occurs
Keeping too connected, causing mind ejection
No app for that on tablet to refer
Now stuck in commuter rut with no transfers
Are you a comatose commuter?
Leo Apr 2020
Watch me - can you see it?
I'm decaying and the streets;
they're decaying
the buildings they’re decaying the poor; they're decaying the rich,
the rich are decaying the streets -
the streets they're decaying the hippies - punks all of them decaying
and the buildings;
your house it's decaying and your money,
your plastic cards the gold it's supposed to represent and the microchips that store the numbers that are supposed to represent how much of it is yours all decaying
and the oil reserves decaying the food supplies decaying
all of it.
Every single piece going back to where it came from but these words are just.
These ideas are just.
Just are.
c quirino Sep 2010
In thousands and thousands of years,
our successors, who or whatever they are,
won’t just find our bones.
They’re going to find our living rooms,
our I-pods, coffee mugs,
suitcases, post-it notes.
The quiet little things that become our lives,

and they’ll look at each other, our successors,
and they’ll think: ‘how charming…how primitive they lived.
This is what they wore on their feet,
and this is the thing they used to listen to music
with before they had the microchips implanted.”
But it makes me think.
This is exactly what we say now
…about the Greeks, the Mesopotamians,
the Incas, Mayas,
all the ****-cloth wearers.

We talk about them
like they were exempt
from unremarkable daily existences,
that their run-of-the mill equivalences’ to Tuesdays
were filled with human sacrifices,
complex rituals and **** like that.
We never talk about how they must have felt exactly like we do now…
We never talk about how they could have easily felt alone in a crowd,
or how they could have felt unrequited love.

They’re always talked about like they were better or worse than we are.
But I think we’re really just exactly the same as them.
© Constante Quirino
Gregory K Nelson Nov 2013
My heart swings forward
across the line.
The doors lock behind me.
Now there is no choice but blue skies or rain.

Then I wonder what heart "means."
I wonder why the sky is blue,
and why things bother to grow at all.

But "growth" continues its bored stretch,
irregardless of my inability to understand it,
and I have better things to think about now.

I have her.

Her and that little grin that grabs hold of the corner of her mouth
then turns toward me and opens.

She knows that I lied,
before I do.

She makes me feel like a little boy that ****** his brand new shorts,
and a man that's found a woman I know

I will love,
whether I want to
or not.

I still sweat in my sleep, and grunt when I move.
But she is there sometimes now (when schedules provide).

When I wake in the night,
a boy that thinks he's a man
just because I'm not afraid of the dark.

And the light breaks through the bull,
that electric touch,
"The Spark,"
she knows it in her deepest sleep,
her deepest dreams,
as they bend my own dreams into,
a new future.

I touch her where she is covered in my paint splattered sweat pants
and her arms open to hug me
before she wakes.

I feel the love like a child,
like it was always there
like it just might always will be.

Like God has spoken, but we cut him off 'cause we already knew.

We will **** and we will laugh like we have and like the others,
but there is something else in this.

She will change me.
I know this.
Into what, I truly do not know.

Our planet spins and circles.
Wars begin and end.
Multitudes suffer.
Microchips shrink at an exponential rate.
American politics deteriorate, dwindling down Democracy to a joke.
The Giants lose.
My money runs out.
My leg hurts.
The fridge is empty.
The house is burning.
The fabric of our reality is splitting in two, and in three minutes this world will end and we all will die unremembered.

I don't give a ****.
I love her.
claire Apr 2017
There are so many defective computers,
Their cable cords tangled and fraying.
We don't know if we should fix their screens
Or turn off all electronics thirty minutes before bed.
We fear that their corrupted microchips
Will pass on their viruses
And steal our identities.
So we upgrade and receive a shiny new machine,
Content to let the fractured ones
Corrode in a dusty repair room,
Their helpless tones growing fainter
I wanted to experiment with using a metaphor and very plain language to write about something big and dark. I chose to express my thought about mental illness with a computer metaphor. Mental illness is gradually becoming a less taboo topic, but it still is ignored by a lot of people. We can't support our loved ones and friends who suffer this way if we ignore their signals because it makes us uncomfortable. Do what you can, be aware.
spysgrandson Jul 2015
a curse
visited upon my inner ears, years ago
still plagues me  

many days
I wobble when I walk, though my legs still strong
my heart nowhere near done
with its billion beats    

I hear little
without the aid of pink plastic molds, microchips
which bless me with a roar

this morning, before the sun
in a gray stillness that promised rain  
I left them on the bedside stand  

the air is cool yet  
I am awash with silence and can’t remember
when I awoke this early, to such
a soothing symphony
I have a rare inner ear disease that robbed me of my balance and much of my hearing--I still hike mountain trails, and hear with hi-tech aids, but sometimes I forget what I am missing in all this sweet silence
J Jan 2011
An obscene, sickly beautiful scene
Met me with a ***** sheen
It dulled the tightness in my chest:
The butterflies when I misstep.
Like the second-guessed ache of paranoia
that left me curled at the foot of the sequoias
waiting still and tense, for your voice to fade.
Never for a moment dropping my charade
as I paraded proudly back inside declaring
my true innocence; I found you unsparing.
You swallowed my word and I found you even
Requesting repetition, so you could believe in
the obvious lies leaking my lips,
and you know what they say: loose lips sink ships.
So when you come to grips,
I’ll still be installing microchips
Inside that open wound of yours.
While you’re hugging porcelain on all fours
I won’t be sympathizing with all the ******
Who leave their lipstick napkins on your lap;
Who fall into your egocentric death trap.
I was never one of those,
To be used and then disposed…
So while you’re trying so hard to make me jealous;
I’ll just tell you your method is overzealous.
You had your chance before;
You’ll have no chances anymore.
You can finally stop trying to request the help of cupid,
I promise you I only ever loved you young and stupid.
written 01/28/2011
Shouted out in little bursts
the truth will wound
and the truth hurts
but spread out thinly
grimly
slimly grasping hold
the truth is truth that must be told.

Truthtellers on the ball
never seen down in Whitehall
where slimy grips with microchips
and microdot would stop the truth before the rot of truth
infected all electorate
at any rate
I think it's true
or just another lie to lie in bed with other untruths that were said
and was the truth put in a book I read or was that just another lie in bed?

I can't tell what's true or not the microdot has chipped my brain
I'll never be the same again.
At Mansion House where I've never been
you should have seen me there
another lie ,oh I can't bear the shame
tap me on the shoulder,send me off to jail
disregard the pleas for bail
and let me fail inside the cell
a battery man
electric hell
don't tell me lies
don't give me grief
I'm safe within my own belief
that everything is right and just
and only those who think they must tell lies
will die inside the living
of the truthful eyes that eye the man who would tell lies.

The essence of it seems to be
the truth will always set you free
from any cell,electric hell
I'll give Whitehall
a call
and let them know.
Sage King Jan 2013
My smile is made of pixels
little bitty microchips
fitted and clicked together
at the corners of my mouth.

The power goes out
My microchip smile
flickers away
mike Feb 2015
i won't drink from the faucet but
ill pour it out and pay my bill.
they put microchips in the water.
to attach to my dna.
to get me to do terrible things.
homicides.
and to forget.
i leave the TV on loud dumb shows
so they don't know what I study.
they're listening through the speakers.
my socks are soaked in chemicals
to absorb into my feet
to make me immune
but ill be dead by then.
im writing it all down and saving it in
encrypted files.
the password is in the truth.
Chikelu Eshe May 2017
satisfaction when falling
into the bottomless
two minutes slip by

all my lifetime of trying to recognize
spiritual masters, instead -
potential parents
flood the tunnels with the bad manners and
dressed in dark grey and green

such repugnance -
decadent as **** malevich
i crawl into his smoky rib cage
forget that the language
is dead.
he pauses, rushes and pants
paints his face skeleton
eyelids blank like i pictured - but
no seattle sound. math rock and machines going off they rocker
no rolling stone
**** her string along that neck
come back reborn. shut the door
collapse in the bathroom, throwing up
into the telephone -
sa ding **** made up words
or looped cuban songs -
back in the day is gone
not anymore not anymore

what do ripped jeans mean to you?
or 16th century persian poets?
when your mind is set afire
swarthed
you like women in klimt’s canvas
light beams through your slits
so you won’t drown in
ruthless thoughts stream
when your deafened ear catches
the ovations
pervading, dying blue note
still not the ending

madame blavatsky unfolding the envelope:
i’m the circle on palm leaf manuscripts
with a dot in the middle -
you’re the reason. the clarity and the void
the eye in between
the missing capstone, i am the folklore
strange beings with fishtail and
i might be the lizard
king, violet violent dressed in crimson
you squeezing them lemons
tequila so creamy
when spiky black leather rips through
the wires, sound effects are your favorite
print shops, in them zines. your dialect
you savor - licking your lips,
saturated and smeared, paranoid
black sabbatical
moon-kissed.

i know you all umbilical visceral
bite your teeth into and cut
catalonia - two halves, dry mouth
and scorching sun
you know i’m subtler than the red
a lotus flower growing in the west
silk sheets in ultraviolet, as soon as
you come to rest
i can smell the war in your curl
jet black and charcoal -
no matte.

no hole in your chest - yet
microchips, they flicker
under your skin as the muscles twitch
in the rem sleep;
black madonna’s humble soft gaze
through the painted veil. marble or onyx
did you feel defeated? when you’ve fallen?
into the bottomless - unknowing
fungus-like growing
upsidedown along with the
torus

cycles and waves, when it’s not subatomic
i wish we’d perceived past the
electromagnetic; distant planets and stars
tease my potential. if only
i wasn’t eclectic, if only
i was in zazen

i accept; sit back sense the vibrations
mind-vacuumed perception not split into parts;
a black whole: if you, color, still there
up high; this deceiving metronome
sound time-travelling in circles
splashes across; carmen in carmine
a girl walks home alone
feline; l'via, cygnus,
jimi,
come on
why don’t you set me free
In the factory the Mother Machine makes love to steel and death.
One at the time, with mothers love, The Machine gives birth to the henchmen of death.
Each loved exactly the same amount.

Made from cold steel and microchips those grim reapers wander.
Seeking last remains among the anthill build from glass and concrete.

On the streets strong focused light cuts in the armor with ease and precision.
Weak flesh armed to the teeth is slowly dying, buying time for the fleeing Lemmings.

In the factory Mother smiles giving ****** births to the end of time.
Shayne Revers Feb 2016
The oldest stories of human creation told us that we were carefully constructed in "his" divine image. And that our bodies were molded through love and understanding. While our minds lay engineered with the innate ability to separate emotion from logic. Unfortunately for the creator the very "gift" of intellect he bestowed upon his children, acted merely as the blade In which we used to separate from him. Our newly implanted intelligence led us to wonder,dare and dream at our very place amongst the stars. Over time the same love and empathy that laid the blue print of our very exist we viewed now as humanities crutch. And what took its place were microchips,rockets and innovation. Technology now became our God, and it's gifts allowed us to fabricate life reducing its importance to a mere cheap trick. What will our designer feel for us now that he has returned to his children? Will he view us as his equal, lords of our domain? Or merely a poor replication of his original intent? These answer less questions race through my mind in rapid succession, as I stare hypnotically skyward. And behind my astronaut helmet lay fearful eyes, from watching the heavenly geometric craft slowly descending before us. Does his ancient love for his children still exist? Or will he gaze upon us now with new eyes and not old?
Marshal Gebbie Mar 2023
This place we now find ourselves in, in history, where Human aggression is recognized as being a universal paramount in the fight for global survival..

Where in the face of Russian warmongering and charging Chinese military expansionism?
Where in the uncertainty of the volatility and utterly predictable intentions of second string nuclear nations, such as North Korea, Israel, India , Pakistan, South Africa and, soon, Iran, there can be no promise of security from the possibility of spontaneous outbreak of nuclear hostilities.?
Where the USA, because of the trajectories of its diabolical, episodic electoral swings, In that every four years the political spectrum and its spinning wheel of alliances and militaristic articulations change to render the nation as predictably unreliable militarily and, essentially, heading towards being a potential fortress unto itself?
Where nuclear NATO and Europe wallow in a quagmire of indecision and bickering between themselves rendering them, collectively, insignificant?
Where emergent South Korea, Taiwan, Japan and several South American nations are currently being backed into a position where they are being forced to militarize, to join the nuclear club for their own survival?
Where the Jihadists will ultimately procure and utilize a nuclear device in the most spectacular manner possible….to further their own ends?

There have been 106 major wars fought since 1945. Many of them brushfire wars between populations within a single or neighboring nation, the like of which are still being fought in countries such as Nigeria, the Congo, Sudan, Syria, Palestine, Afghanistan and Yemen. Wars where people are being brutalized, dispossessed, killed and *****, daily. Where thousands are made refugees having to abandon their homes, their lives and their families in the face of brute force and extreme violence. Wars which are completely ignored by much of the rest of the world. Ignored because they don’t touch the comfortable normality of everyday life, the harmony of an existence without the threat of violent death by marauding gunmen or suicide vest explosives.

We in peaceful corners of the world live in a fool’s paradise because the threat of sudden widespread thermonuclear war has never been so immanent, so poised to erupt, since that of the Cuban Missile crisis of 1962 where Kennedy and Khrushchev were within a hairs breadth of unleashing nuclear armageddon on the world. Sanity prevailed then, a compromise was reached where nuclear armaments were mutually removed from Poland and Cuba and the world entered the phase of MAD (Mutually Assured Destruction). An insanity which berthed the age of Détente.

And so it has been till now. A balancing act where nuclear nations tip toed around each other stretching the limits of confrontation without actually trespassing to the threshold.

Putin has passed the threshold with his extended invasion of Ukraine, He had the opportunity of freezing hostilities and retaining Donbas and the Crimean peninsula for Russia. He twice declined this opportunity and reinforced his attack on the Ukrainian people. Biden’s USA dug in as did the nations of NATO declaring their intention to militarily support the  forces of Ukraine for as long as it took to force Russia’s hand.
An impasse which hovers both sides on the very brink of nuclear confrontation.

China skips back and forth playing peacemaker to the UN and brother in arms to its Communistic ally, Russia. Yet all the while China trumpets its ultimate destiny of world ******* by force. Flexing her muscle in the Spratley and Paracell islands of the South China sea where she has expanded coral atolls into fortified military airfields threatening the free trade sealanes between Asia and the world. China now claims the South china sea as her own sovereign territory and patrols this seaway aggressively with armed warplanes and warships.

China confronts the Seventh Fleet of the USA navy over her demand of ownership of Taiwan, the forces are nose to jowel with fingers on the trigger. Taiwan is the world leader in production of microchips, They have the factories and the raw materials, Taiwan own the secrets of the processing. China are desperate to get this technology… and they need it now for further development of their computer and space research development. They have threatened Taiwan with military maneuvers and declarations of intention to invade. The only thing stopping them is the standoff with the USA military. Hair trigger stuff which is so volatile it could erupt at any time.

I gaze out the window here in the beautiful green foothills of Mt. Taranaki in New Zealand. The Tasman sea extends out for miles as a peaceful, shimmering deep blue visage. The air is warm and still in this early Autumn harmony. Birds fly by, farmers till their fields bringing in the season’s crop of maize. Harmony, peace and beauty reign supreme. A masterpiece of order and something of immense value to all who live here and share it……But for how long before it all becomes destruction, despair and subjugation. How long before the aggression and the greed for power reaches out to this far outpost of humanity to crush the life out of it with it’s sudden, vast, violent and toxic nuclear fist?

The way humanity is going right now?…..NOT LONG!

I listened to a podcast recently where this question was put to a number of philosophers, scientists, authors and national leaders…..”When will War End?”
The consensus of opinion was that war has always been a part of mankind’s makeup. Only humans and Chimpanzees wage war and only humans do it with a visceral passion.
When humans wage peace…they get bored! Peace is boring!  …genuinely this was a common theme.
The group saw warfare as an inherent part of man’s competitive nature, they saw it as a compilation of greed, ego, lust for power and assets.

When will war end? Certainly not in my lifetime, probably never!
Live with it, they said!

M@Foxglove,Taranaki NZ
Jester May 2020
Ice said it best, before he had freedom of speech had a track that said it all.

Cop Killer, better than you than me.
Cop Killer **** police brutality.
Cop Killer I hear your mama screamin, **** her
Cop Killer cuz tonight we get even...

It carries on from there.

Good.

How many times are we going to have to sit through another racist cop? How many walk away with paid leave or on suspension, when was the last time any of these cops, sorry racists got locked away for 15+ years, 7 years? hell even 1?

No one is a saint, but ya know what it's getting old living in a country where we're supposed to be this mixing ***, this blending of people and races and creeds and ideas and yet still somehow the white nationalists leak their way into our law enforcement and our government.

What's worse is the common average people who support them.

Remember when we had a black guy as president?
Black man in the white house, making it shades of grey?

To this day republicans still hate it, they can't stand it.

So now we have the truly stupid sitting in his chair, fake spray tan, spreading lies, living in a cult of personality with an army of drones hanging onto every tweet.

Currently we have a leadership who deny science, who deny fact, who create their own view of what's "Real" we have a pandemic that people think is fake and some people think it's a bio-weapon, some people think bill gates is creating a vaccine to inject microchips into us, 5-G causes cancer...

we even now have rat swarms forming..

THIS IS THE DARK AGES.

America, we are not a first world country, not at all. We're Disneyland at best, we're the Hollywood Big Titted blonde *****, we're fake, plastic and cheap acting like we're high society.

We need to bring back some science, some rationality, some middle ground conversations, we need to let women choose what do to with their bodies, we need to let people marry or identify how or who they want. (providing it's not breaking any laws)

We need to get some civil discourse, some simple understanding.

Because right now George Floyd was ******* right...I can't breathe.
23,190 days ago,

Yours truly got hashtagged
as the 2,975,075,410TH
person alive on Earth
according to website
https://worldpopulationhistory.org/
my-population-number/.

Come November 15, 2022
(a little more than
four months from now -
actually one hundred twenty days
after today July 11, 2022),
the world's population
projected to reach eight billion.

The latter date underlined
and iterated above
recognized as World Population Day
according to United Nations
World Population Prospects 2022.

Though prone to espouse Malthusian theory
(the idea that population growth
graphs potentially exponential curve
while the growth of the food supply
or other resources remain linear,
which eventually reduces living standards
to the point of triggering a population die off),
I tend to embrace more optimistic forecasts
encompassing number of people
livingsocial cheek to jowl
upon oblate spheroid
also known as planet earth.

Throughout mein kampf and hard times
(spanning three score plus three years)
the fourth industrial revolution (4IR) prevails.

The 4th Industrial Revolution (4IR)
constitutes a fusion of advances
in artificial intelligence (AI), robotics,
the Internet of Things (IoT),
genetic engineering, quantum computing,
and more applications with microchips
implemented in almost every electronic device
we use today, including smartphones,
gaming consoles, cars and medical equipment.

I feel excluded amidst radical transformations
upending long established paradigms,
and hanker with nostalgic tug in my breast
when civilization linkedin with humankind
reliant upon sweat of their brow efforts
cultivating, harvesting, oiling tired muscles
xing off daily, weekly, monthly... chores
until the morrow beckons hours spent
physically engrossed with labor of love.

No doubt I characterize, fantasize, idealize,
mythologize, romanticize... woebegone time
that only existed within the outer limits
of the twilight zone, where dark shadows
presaged the approach of an alien nation
seeding colonization courtesy
super intelligent species
employing exploitation of innocent naivete
characteristic of yours truly
suitable as key personality,
whereby intergalactic entities jump/kickstart
regime trumpeting other worldly credo
gussied up as faux capitalistic enterprise.

Deft cosmic management utilizes
extra terrestrial workshops
that inculcate transparent
lgbtqia2+ friendly principles
plus reproductive rights
no matter ****** orientation
trends atypically heterosexual
imposing zero tolerance policy instituted
to accommodate divers
creed, ethnicity, gender,
nationality, race, religion, et cetera.

Such far out hypothetical scenario,
whereby once self important **** sapiens
become plaything of all powerful universe force
able, eager, ready and willing
to mutate into any terrestrial animal or plant
can even shrink down
into bot size unit and embed themselves
inside body electric
of people like you and me
ultimately regulating ability
for us to procreate
eventually relegating humankind
to the dustbin of history.
In a time of abject public folly
Where madness rules the western world
I listen to the nimrods prattle on
about conspiracies and subterfuge;
Of microchips injected into flailing
Arms held tightly down by Biden’s thugs.

Alice has managed to escape
The underground tea party
But Fox News is in the hen house
With a mandate for extinction
Of the bird who lays the golden egg
And ****-a-doodle-do’s the sunrise.

Resignation forms a blip in those
Too tired to carry on the jape
That sentences small kids to die
So left and right can pas de deux
But never dance together
And the final curtain starts to fall.
                                          LJM
An addition o 'BLT's word challenge.  Words:  abject, ******, mandate, resignation, blip.  Join the fun - you do one now.
Probably silly to keep numbering these things, but I'm such a Capricorn. I can't not.

— The End —