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I’ve been made sick by technology. Those key boards & keypads, The roving mouse, The touch pad, and ultimately, That telepathic chip Implanted while I slept— Who-da thunk those fingers doing the walking Would become tendrils of the Watching Class? Surveillance inroads to your cerebral cortex, Ultimately taking command. “Pilot on the bridge,” the Bosun screams, Whenever we needed reminding That even our Captain, “Oh Captain, My Captain,” I would console my crew: “Even the Boss has a boss.” Interesting liability issues could be raised here. How can a human being Be held culpable for crimes, Any crime or thought crime, When their mind, body & soul Has been wired to the mainframe, Stored in some remote Deseret, Like that secret NSA facility, They are building Out in the middle of nowhere, Bum-fuck Utah? So what if the people there Are descendants of the Original Apostles of Joseph Smith, With a deep genetic recognition That there was a time When no one wanted These Latter Day gypsies Putting down roots. Anywhere. It was simply out of the question. “Practice polygamy, really?” That’s like wearing a sign round your neck, A neon ankle bracelet round your crotch, An in-your-face bright warning & caveat: Men with wives or daughters-- **** wives and young daughters, or Young **** daughters-- Or old wives in any condition & Mothers. Are considered fair game for ******* No thank you! There’s the highway, Mr. Smith and Take Brigham with you. Cause nobody’s gonna sell you land, Land around here. Let alone there, Or anywhere. No one will sell you squat This side, 500 miles from water. Good water. Farm-good water. Wet navigable water. By the 1830s, The free soil East of Ole Miss Had pretty much dried up. Those wacky bigamists Pushed west again to Illinois— The Prairie State, after all-- Raw land; still. Raw people too, Fearful, intolerant rubes, Barely familiar with their own Book; Scarcely needing another. Our wacky gypsy Saints, Treated like Christ deniers, Treated like Jews, for Christ sake! Joseph & Hiram-- The Smith Brothers (Note to self: Check on Mormon cough drop connection) Slaughtered at Nauvoo. Their Mormon brethren dispossessed of land again, Try Missouri next-- Missouri, the show-me the door state-- These so-called Latter Day Saints Get expelled by gubernatorial proclamation. Saints pushed ever westward. Until finding themselves in a place that Even the ******* Indians didn’t want. They dug their wells around the Great Salt Lake, An American Negev chosen by prophecy, They hunkered down in their desert Tel Beersheba. But I digress. We were talking about That secret NSA complex Being built in Utah, Being built right now, July 2013. When complete The Watching Class will surely tune Their screen resolutions To those of us evincing An unusually keen interest in Issues like privacy. Those among us, for example, Using noms de internet, Maintaining multiple email accounts, Changing passwords Randomly yet frequently, Clearing browsing histories hourly, Deploying anti-viral applications— People: perhaps, with something to hide. Those of us driven to paranoia By the shape of things to come, Those of us afraid of exposure, Yet, incapable of staying off-screen, Impelled by conspiracy fever, Betraying ourselves on Blogs and websites, Leaving digital breadcrumbs behind.
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Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 4:13 PM UTC
"NSA/LDS: THE GRIGORI WATCH"
I’ve been made sick by technology. Those key boards & keypads, The roving mouse, The touch pad, and ultimately, That telepathic chip Implanted while I slept— Who-da thunk those fingers doing the walking Would become tendrils of the Watching Class? Surveillance inroads to your cerebral cortex, Ultimately taking command. “Pilot on the bridge,” the Bosun screams, Whenever we needed reminding That even our Captain, “Oh Captain, My Captain,” I would console my crew: “Even the Boss has a boss.” Interesting liability issues could be raised here. How can a human being Be held culpable for crimes, Any crime or thought crime, When their mind, body & soul Has been wired to the mainframe, Stored in some remote Deseret, Like that secret NSA facility, They are building Out in the middle of nowhere, Bum-fuck Utah? So what if the people there Are descendants of the Original Apostles of Joseph Smith, With a deep genetic recognition That there was a time When no one wanted These Latter Day gypsies Putting down roots. Anywhere. It was simply out of the question. “Practice polygamy, really?” That’s like wearing a sign round your neck, A neon ankle bracelet round your crotch, An in-your-face bright warning & caveat: Men with wives or daughters-- **** wives and young daughters, or Young **** daughters-- Or old wives in any condition & Mothers. Are considered fair game for ******* No thank you! There’s the highway, Mr. Smith and Take Brigham with you. Cause nobody’s gonna sell you land, Land around here. Let alone there, Or anywhere. No one will sell you squat This side, 500 miles from water. Good water. Farm-good water. Wet navigable water. By the 1830s, The free soil East of Ole Miss Had pretty much dried up. Those wacky bigamists Pushed west again to Illinois— The Prairie State, after all-- Raw land; still. Raw people too, Fearful, intolerant rubes, Barely familiar with their own Book; Scarcely needing another. Our wacky gypsy Saints, Treated like Christ deniers, Treated like Jews, for Christ sake! Joseph & Hiram-- The Smith Brothers (Note to self: Check on Mormon cough drop connection) Slaughtered at Nauvoo. Their Mormon brethren dispossessed of land again, Try Missouri next-- Missouri, the show-me the door state-- These so-called Latter Day Saints Get expelled by gubernatorial proclamation. Saints pushed ever westward. Until finding themselves in a place that Even the ******* Indians didn’t want. They dug their wells around the Great Salt Lake, An American Negev chosen by prophecy, They hunkered down in their desert Tel Beersheba. But I digress. We were talking about That secret NSA complex Being built in Utah, Being built right now, July 2013. When complete The Watching Class will surely tune Their screen resolutions To those of us evincing An unusually keen interest in Issues like privacy. Those among us, for example, Using noms de internet, Maintaining multiple email accounts, Changing passwords Randomly yet frequently, Clearing browsing histories hourly, Deploying anti-viral applications— People: perhaps, with something to hide. Those of us driven to paranoia By the shape of things to come, Those of us afraid of exposure, Yet, incapable of staying off-screen, Impelled by conspiracy fever, Betraying ourselves on Blogs and websites, Leaving digital breadcrumbs behind.
giuseppi-martino-buonaiuto
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giuseppi-martino-buonaiuto
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 4:13 PM UTC
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