Smart, wild thing
Sent, pathetic and starving,
In need of work
[By] the Computer-being,
Acting on profit
To a crazy, very bad job.
[When asked] feel up to protest?
[It answered] Hard no.
[Yes], Everlasting authority
Is totally scary
[But], my mind, body, and soul
[Are] dog-tired [and] dumb today.
[So], [I’ll just] sit here,
Impatient [and] act [like things
are] hunky-dory.
Sep 29, 2019
Sep 29, 2019 at 12:35 PM UTC
Now’s the time for dichotomies,
For good and evil, for right and wrong
For calling upon the very myths
Which divided us in the first place;
Now’s the time to call evil as it stands,
As the wrong people die
Murdered by the right,
Insulated by edelweiss dreams
And makeshift armies of fascist fascinations
They cannot see
The wrong people are dying—
The wrong people are dying—
Sep 29, 2019
Sep 29, 2019 at 12:35 PM UTC
One can hear the ingenuine
Consolations as yet another person
Succumbs to despair;
Faceless, nameless, blank, and distant,
Another person succumbs to despair.
We only know by the uptick
In certain metrics that
There will be one less consumer
Come tomorrow, tears shed
For dollars lost.
A controversial opinion, that suicide
Is bravery taken to its extreme,
But, when at the shores of the Rubicon
And a stone must be cast,
The strongest willed, the most charitable
Will cast theirs as everyone else commiserates
********* the stones around their necks,
Watching the soft taps on the water’s surface,
Farther and further into the distance.
The egoist in the ivory tower
Can hear their wailing from inside
The sterile room without window or door,
And, to protect himself, slips
Ammo into the cracks—
Those closest to the base
Grab fistfuls of cash and arms
To protect their own millstones,
Their livelihoods as sparks begin to fly:
Who to blame is the first question
How to **** them, the next,
While others see the ruse behind
Ritual suicide at the loss of the stone,
Some others turn to pity—
But, those unwilling to protect their leash
Are sacrificed to the gun-happy mongrels,
The rebels of the capitalist’s first vanguard
As they wave their blood-soaked flags
High, knowing the millstones
Rightly belong to the faceless victor in his tower;
Suicide is nothing more than theft, he says.
Thus the vanguard follows
Pulling the unwitting in
As they start fires with friction
And get lost in the smoke and mirrors,
Killing the wrong people—
Sep 29, 2019
Sep 29, 2019 at 12:34 PM UTC
The interesting parts of shape and form
Are limited when formed
Cheap, uniform, and cubical,
Reflecting the soulless brutality
Of intent—
Intelligent design means nothing more
Forcing the liquid inside
To take the shape of its container—
Through years of pressure from the
Despot’s thumb
And his authoritarian chemistry:
A nigh-universal refinement process,
All organic matter has been given a place
Within the industrial model
As fuel for the world’s future engines.
Pools of precious hyrdocarbons
Sit at the foot of the despot’s ego
Prone, as we, the colorless
Mass, have seen, to volatility,
And coats the world in floods of the stuff
When threatened; he, too, has placed
Himself within a cube, bound its constitution
With paper and ink as a good-will gesture
To move the mechanized world’s pistons
With concentrated, explosive hatred,
Designed to inspire and harvest death
The world over.
Sep 29, 2019
Sep 29, 2019 at 12:34 PM UTC
They came into this world
Starving, pathetic, and in need of work
Computer beings seeking profit,
We called them millennials and,
Like bacilli to honey,
They will eat themselves to death;
I’ll be waiting with an open casket.
When the time comes,
Issued as both punishment and reward,
Fitted just for lazy things,
And it shall be translucent,
As all human desires are
An empty display
Of material just as ubiquitous.
I’ll be the funeral director,
Engorged by suffering,
When the time comes
I’ll be waiting with an open casket.
The skin that does not bleed
When struck, requires only a few
Strikes more,
The arms which do not tire
When pushed, require only a few
More loads,
The will that does not break
When overburdened, requires only a few
Lashes more—
When the time comes
I’ll be waiting with an open casket
And let the ocean, in pacificity
Carry them to the collective
Dead of this world, to churn in anonymity
For eternity; a true hell to the ego,
I’ll be waiting with an open casket
Just to send it off with a nudge.
Sep 29, 2019
Sep 29, 2019 at 12:34 PM UTC
1.
In the minds of global leaders
$20 million is all it takes
To restore a world
Assaulted by negligence,
Grown by kneecapping the world,
All the while, spending
$1.71 trillion to ensure the worst offenders
Pay for their dreams of global dominance,
$20 million is all it takes
To undo two hundred years
Of the colonialist mentality
To aright wayward ******** of harlot empires
Who could only learn from neoliberals
In the bordello of the Western Hemisphere—
$20 million is all that it takes
To restore a world, a space far too big
For the imperial mind to encapsulate,
For they are too worried about
What is beyond space, what is in heaven
In glorious economic **********
There is no peace, no trumpeting
Communal values under whose auspice
The world over will achieve
The neoliberal dream:
The arena, the coliseum,
Where the sword, the tariff, the trade war
Are the proper lingua franca
Of the entrepreneurial class,
Suppressing popular uprisings
Is the front-line infantry
Of the entrepreneurial class—
2.
We are the Global West
Subsumed under the rancher,
The cowboy capitalist,
On the wilds of his destiny.
He’s tried his best,
To drag the whole herd with him,
Handed enough bootstraps
To hang itself with
As it ***** up water and rest,
At such a premium in the hard desert of
The industrialist’s heart, putting a stop
To what the herd wants—
It needs to make it beyond the pass
Into the uncertain future of
Coyotes and hazards aplenty;
The only certainty is, though,
Inequities between the rancher
And his livelihood,—
But, ah! That’s what makes
The Wild, Wild, Global West
So tempting to those whose numbers have been
Decimated by it in the early years,
Its growing pains; it’s simple, really:
War makes money, suffering is
The only commodity that defies the laws
Of supply and demand,
Its value rises as we tap more wells,
More wellsprings, as it bubbles to the surface
Of every sweating, stress-sickened face
Whether migrating or on the assembly line.
Our ranches must become bigger,
More accommodating to the cattle,
And, if possible, to make ranchhands
Of our rival ranchers at any cost,
If even the only subordinate is the earth itself.
Sep 29, 2019
Sep 29, 2019 at 12:33 PM UTC
Upon this day, a reckoning of an ideal
Has begun—the immortalizing of ideologies
In statues, in tremendous acts, in carbon footprints
Has kept humankind comforted well into
Its collective existential crisis,
Like a black hole consuming all matter around it
So has David Koch created a hole
So powerful, only the crumbs of an economy
Still circle recognizable, having long disfigured
What it means to be human—
Randian liquors dribble from his lips
Like crude from earth’s entrails,
Where to heal the ills of an unequal system
Forever picked and scratched open,
Fresh blood lines a gilded age promenade
And workers follow the path,
Churches follow the path,
Business executives follow the path,
The fossil fuel industry follows the path—
The legacy is strikingly apparent
In the folds and lines of the earth,
Carving human-shaped beds
In the crust and forever below
One such for David Koch, too,
The legacy is strikingly apparent
In the ****** of things human and not,
The legacy is strikingly apparent,
In the killing of the human and the birthing
Of the industrial human, the consumer race
With word opines what industry cannot solve
With deed makes hurdles far exceeding industry,
A contradicting race
A self-limiting virus,
An impossible being, the consuming race,
An inhuman being—
This ********** of the over-man
Should come with minor fanfare
In babelic tongues as we celebrate,
Good or bad, happily or tearfully,
The death of the invisible hand’s seraphim,
Who, while building the tower to heaven,
Took up the horns, encouraged us with
The Gospel of individualism that Russian sociopath
Espoused so convincingly, so fetishistically,
We’ve risen above, we’ve moved beyond,
No longer human but capital:
What does not **** us
Only makes them stronger.
Sep 29, 2019
Sep 29, 2019 at 12:33 PM UTC
Too many ghosts
Who’ve drank from the Grail,
Have commented on its peculiar shape:
A vital substance in a Klein bottle
Has nourished the metaphysical,
And gave it suppleness
Like skin, but without nerve-endings—
Like plastic
These mobisian volatilities have taken
All vertices outward, prisons of prisms
Are not special to the spirit inside
But the monstrosity appearing
Astride the Rio Grande:
Eyes and ears posted
All along the prism’s edge
Contain so many lives yet to be lost,
The arms of the ghost
Surround the outside
With rusted-over armor to keep the Fates
Locked away indefinitely
Beating, starving, and ******
All lives coming to the edge of the undead.
There, from across the impossible barrier,
One can see the astral projection
Of death-animate within—
What is a prison outside is, by definition,
A prison inside
Guarded by a lily-white panopticon
And its pale imitations
Kept warm and safe in the rebel’s undead embrace.
When the transformation happened
Is anyone’s guess, but by the love
Of a dispassionate hatred,
A distant, fever-dream voice
From a white house upon a hill,
A clarion made of echoes,
The prisoners latch to one another
And form the body of a great scavenger—
By the vulture’s keen eye for death,
It picks off those who cannot stand
On their own two feet,
Those poor, huddled masses,
In one hand holding the AR-15,
The other, a bushel of nooses.
The vulture screams!
Ride, ride you wraiths!
To the border, ride!
The invasion of pained flesh
Shall never break the adamant heads
Of the patriot’s ghost, hungering
For the blood of a place
Victimed by the very body
It sought to bury,
As the body labors,
Eats nothing but its pride,
Drinks nothing but the slop
From piss-and-vinegar soaked
Rags of American flags strewn,
Torn asunder, ringing them out
To, one day, make Molotov cocktails
So hot, their blaze could boil ectoplasm and
Finally rattle staid hearts
Thousands of miles from the suffering,
A distance turned artist, apathy and hatred
Become this new face of humankind.
Sep 29, 2019
Sep 29, 2019 at 12:33 PM UTC
The bombs bring us closer together
As they drive every body apart
Or so comfortable pundits claim—
We heard the angels screaming
Across the sky, straddling warheads
That pitted the earth with salvation
And a chorus celebrating Judgement—
And toward the otherworldly glow
Night could no longer be found
In God’s light, rising as a pillar of fire
From the great mushroom clouds
That filled heaven and hell alike.
On all surfaces, our souls remained
As our bodies faded in the foreground,
Our souls remained in black and white
As our cause faded in the foreground,
Our souls remained in devastation
As our bodies were painted with tears,
Like morbid excavations dug by planes
As our remains filled mass graves
Parishioners filled the holes in a chapel’s coffers.
We were brought together by the bombs,
Thank you, God, for this chance
To finally be with you.
Sep 29, 2019
Sep 29, 2019 at 12:32 PM UTC
Before me, endlessly
If that hideous fraud of humanity,
Where boredom and open contempt
Can be found ******* each other,
Spirituality inherent,
In the concrete of the parkway—
You can see it on their lips
A delicacy as they casually quip
About the quarrel of concrete and steel
Behind roadmaps and getting lost
Is a slave to every master’s destiny—
It’s obvious in the way they drive
So many people feel as though they’ve
Lived such fulfilling lives
It’s reassuring that no one on this road
Is afraid to die
We comfort ourselves on Nietzsche’s words
But such prayers get drowned out on the freeway
In the roar of busy, inward-facing cabs
Willing to maim and be maimed
Willing to **** and die
For a few minutes more,
Risking an entire lifetime
For a few minutes more
In stripmalls and McMansions
Along America’s thoroughfares,
God closes the window as he deadbolts
The door, seeing what we’d give
For a few minutes more.
Sep 29, 2019
Sep 29, 2019 at 12:32 PM UTC