"And now please welcome today's anti-terrorism speaker, Anonymous!"

[anonymous applause, dwindling out]

"Thanks, everyone. The reason I prefer anonymity should be self-evident, but just to make it clear, I wish to avoid the recrimination of the hostile element."

"Before I got here I was just reading, and believe me I'm still not believing, but it would seem, on the whole, that planetary aggression is on the slow."

A hand is raised
A hand is ignored
The speaker moistens his lips
Prepared to emit a bit more.

"I have stats and stories
Tortuous anecdotes about little girls and boys
Food and sanitation is a crime itself
And I'm prepared to say we live in our own hell."

Arms upheld wither down
As new hands reach for attention
But the speaker ignores them all
Intent on his own presentation.

"The reason for hate
Is more or less clear
We fiercely believe one thing
As they devoutly believe another.

But do not fear!
We are right and they are wrong
They saddle their own children with a death song
No cartoons of basic morality
Just legs with bombs
Made to go off remotely."

An angry rustle
Amidst lowered hands
Quieting now
Like they're getting the hang of it.

"Humans are robots
Programmable, malleable and sometimes trustworthy
Highly complicated machinery!
Indoctrination is the virus
That seeks to destroy the outside."

Again the raised hands
And eyebrows too
All these fluttering robots
Fluttering in a pseudo-free zoo.

Ignoring the obvious
The speaker plods onwards
But modulates his voice
Against their trained reactions.

"We need to accept and enfold
An ideology only thousands of years old
To mutate and twist
Into what our children might wish."

Someone yells "Disney!"
Another mutters "Black whiteys"
But there are a few
Who remain to hear it through.

"Despite what you think
Despite who you are
Against all you've been taught
We've come quite far.

You may not know your son
You may not know your daughter
But leave them alone
And tomorrow may happen.

Put the guns aside
Drink from your hidden bottles without shame
You are who you are
And you should let them be them."

This is not what anyone wanted
Anyone over the age of ten
This is not what anyone wanted
With children and the urge to brainwash them.

The room trickles out
Leaving the most devout
Devoted to the future
Any future left standing.

But amidst this group
Are hard-liner elements
And one has a voice
Cutting through it all
To ask, "What about bomber babies?"

And riding right on top
Is a fat slobbery Republican fop
Demanding in his self-entitled way
"What the **** about America?"

The speaker shrugs
As if to indicate
Which question
Is more stupid.

"We seek to leave the planet
And develop tech to make it happen
You go your way
And we go ours."

The room is smaller now
They indulge in eye contact
Personal communications
Words, hands, heads and eyebrows.

The speaker sighs
As if on the cusp of absolute honesty
Then spills his true guts
To these few radicals and emissaries:

"Our worst enemy is ourselves
Through millennia fashioning our own hells
Subjugation of non-prominent DNA
Believing destruction will pave the way.

But on a not-much larger scale
We're just cheap entertainment
For every other race
That crawled up this hill."

The crowd is slightly subdued
Probably more from shame
Than anything
Because shame is in the DNA
And experienced by everyone.

But we can always rely
On some fat Republican to decry
"But not me!
And for sure not my children!"

And now even more file out
Hearts emptied and minds afloat
Now it's just the sweating speaker
And a few odd haters.

"We're a microbial phenomenon
Miraculously still alive
And still inept
At staying alive."

He waves a casual hand like a maestro
And behind him the stage glows
A 30x30 screen descends
Illuminating bugs as they crawl.

"We're slightly smarter
But no more hardier
Than Hymenoptera
Except we can leave this planet."

Red-faced and obviously insulted
The old fat plushy storms out
Leaving now just a few
To adopt this future-flung view.

"We need to terraform and colonize
Sure, and design space suits
Pleasing to the eye
But ultimately,
We need to get the hell gone."

One clap, one frown
The speaker shrugs
As if wondering
Why aren't we all gone?

And so he is left
With the clean-up crew
And one fruitcake
Who asks
"Will God come with us?"

You left me empty like the vacuum of space
Each portion of me aching to be filled
But instead, my insides felt like barren planetary bodies
Loose red soil provides no nutrients
All life ceased to exist long ago
Everyone dreams of being the first human feet on mars
But I wish only to terraform my broken heart

I have a desire to unleash
My imagination unto the world,
I wish to give birth to many worlds
To terraform colorful plains
Of unbelievable skies and creatures.

One is of a cat, a dangerous cat
Who stands on his hind legs
And cups his top hat with his right paw,
And bows his orange coat,
Careful not to wrinkle his fine suit.
He is dangerous because he is a gentleman,
And in this era
Gentlemen are scarce and unheard of.
So unheard of that Gentleman Cat
Is always given conservative, cautious, and quizzical looks
Looks that try to read Gentleman Cat
Of any deceit, dishonor, and destruction
That drip from his light whiskers.

Another is of an industrial wasteland
Where all its people reek of bewilderment
Taken aback by this strange place.
It is full of leaking deformities
And sopping wet clothes
And screeching radiators.
It is a sad mad realm,
But the coal still burns
As freaks walk in the rain
Under the hypnosis of poisonous air.

Another is a place I haven't fully developed yet,
But it includes a bust, a butcher, and a *****.

Another follows a bright young princess
Who chooses to walk barefoot,
Much like her people.
However, she cuts her foot on a rusty nail
And dies because modern healthcare
Is an illusion.

Another is a card player named Luke
Who sees debt as a challenge,
More so than a problem.
His ****** ignorance leads him
To a troubling situation
Where he has nothing to pay
After losing a game of chance,
Except for his fleshed jewels
Passed down since the dawn of man.

Another is one that I just thought of this instant.
It is of a psychotic policeman
Who shoots himself
In order to increase his **** count
From 27 to 28.

Finally, one more story.
In this story a woman has two dreams,
In the first she is chased by
A thunder cloud through a corn maze.
She is panting and flailing her lungs
Trying to grasp for air,
And the dream ends.
The second is she is on a conveyer belt
Sitting at a wooden school desk
Receiving lessons from a hooded figure
With a gavel
Hammering ideals and priorities
Of the old world.
The figure is crying
And drawing infinite circles on the blackboard
With a new piece of chalk.
Eventually the both of them
Arrive at the end of the line,
And fall into a cavern of outer space
Where a butterfly appears from the hooded figure's hood
And crumbles and shrivels right before the girl's eyes.
And then she wakes up.

Welcome to the stellar season

new passion & new reason

I am reignited

too flamed, I’m heat seeking

Simply motivated

like a *******

Condoms made of confidence

Just in case I **** your mother

I’ve come from the bottomless

I’m higher than the very top

Too high, Upper echelon, ***** I’m Michael Angelo mixed with a Megatron

Phantom of the Op

with a knife that never stops

Chucky in the form of a dope decepticon

looking for a *** of gold like a leprechaun

If I don’t find the gold, then I’ll put the *** in ****

then spark that **** forever long

Confidence & cognac enough to keep me gunning,

cardio to cardiac Arrested for the running

Running of the mouth, running of the mind, I feel too defined

I think I’ve reached a line

Everyday

I write & spit a verse or two

yelling at the sky to see what the universe would do

a science experiment and the catalyst is you

steady battling the truth

Between working that 9 to 5

Or chasing your inner youth

Displacement of bigger visions

Shuffled by rash decisions

Motivation has risen, coupled with work ethic

I want exotics & moments of rarity

My visions clear, I’m surprised by this clarity

The world's changing like moods swings and irregularities

2016 will be the year of efficiency

A strong alliance of motivation and pure ability

Smarter science, enhances ions an durability

Energy streams through my seams like electricity

it feels riveting

I will change my ground like a terraform generator

I know that I’m bound to something that’s much greater

**** all of the hate

******* & the naysayers

onion I am

my mind has many layers

No more dishes served cold

I’m tired of late waiters

I’m a heat-seeking ventilator

Freestyle originator

Here's some cold bars & some beers from my refrigerator

Mastermind incinerator to all of the instigators

Instagram this so you ***** can read it later

No More Procrastinators, haters & ******* decisions makers

I’m bulldozing my way, then rebuilding like path makers

Skillfully shifting ground  

I’m here to tilt the equator

The time to make money

is now

Not later

Negotiations of lame relations are no longer in the equation

I’m on my digital hustle like a roomed packed with 3 Indians & 2 Asians

All coding syntax for an app that automatically takes pictures of random places

Not so C++ Basic, but if you can crack the code then it’s your for the taking

This is the stellar season were motivation is lurking, I’m excited like jive turkey, hand me a biscuit, time to consume then sore like a fly birdie.


my minds sturdy, I’m making sick instrumentals to spit a flow from the mental then simply define worthy.

the next time i dream
i want to remember i'm dreaming
so i can soar
so i can fly
and alter its reality to my vision
to terraform the mind
but who says you must take the reigns,
there's lucidity to you now,
but must you wrestle control?

The air is magic
In the same way a human nervous system is divinely inspired by tree roots

As tree roots seek other tree roots to bind to, sharing nutrients and information underground in secret tongues lost to time (but not to trees),
So too does the nervous system talk to our various insides,
electricity and fat and water and blood,
mysterious even to us as we haphazardly propel ourselves through space,
a mess of actions and reactions.

Magic

In the same way that time exists only because death exists
And death exists both because of and in spite of time.

And I am alive.

(If you ever doubt yourself, remember the incredible odds you overcame just to become).

Months maybe, a year?
We were unmasked in your home or mine,
Or on a walk
Or texting our words into knitted ropes that became our strength and our life line
And you said
“I never realized how connected we all are. That every moment spent with others, I am breathing their breath. We’re sharing breath, all of us, all the time.”

Oh.
Oh. Yes.
Lashes of breath like lizard tongues
Forked and solid and hot
Plunging and coiling;
Ariel losing her song.

(I carry this with me still, like I carry the threat of the possibility of blood drying in the veins, crystallizing there.)

A sharing of totems, airborne on the exhale, between the vastness of humanity.
Maybe it’s a
Heart,
feather,
child,
guitar string,
equation,
pet,
sense memory

- a bit of mustard,
a crumb of cheese -

a shame,
a secret,
an illness,
a loss,
a hope,
a flame,
a diary entry,

a passage in a story that is so written on your DNA that your ancestors will possess its truth and sacredness,

Not ******, but nakedness.

The unknowable intricacies that terraform the gallery walls of every life ever lived,
Each of us a cavern sprawling brimming with a trail mix of escaped fragments of other souls, nestled among our own wreckage and music and roots of trees.

This invisible connection to each other,
so wrought now, warped and vivid
against the sky.  
Drawing breath as drawing sword,
building blocks as barriers built,  
We are withdrawing from each other in our sick rooms,
dosed on breath from birth,
suddenly forced into thickened singularity for an easier swallow, weighted heavy on the chest.
Oh I know, it’s the X-ray blanket at the dentist when you were a kid
It’s Ian’s sweaty shaking hand during that first detox, 20 bars deep, wanting to tell him that I ******* told you so, I TOLD you. Knowing that no one’s voice would ever be louder than his own.

You look at me,
And I’m losing you.
I see it like bitterness on your lips
But I don’t mind.
You’re right, I’m exhausted too.
I wish I was better at being frank.
How, though, to make sense of this new world if not to drag the old world into it?
How to point and name and say “this is”
When all you know is what it is not?

Lets plan a trip to mars..
Terraform all its scars..
Make it liveable for us all..
Change the red star blue..

Lets build a vessel that can take us there..
By the hundreds or by the thousands..
A new planet for us to share..

All this amazing effort for an elsewhere far from here..
If we are willing to do such colossal efforts..
Why don't we do it to the planet we already have here..

E A R T H: It can be saved...

There was a stretch of land down 49
that cut the Hori-
con in half,

I drove that road with windows rolled
down, breathing in the
earthen scents;

(and while I’d never
spotted her,
I was told the Great Blue Heron lived there)

the crickets
tuned their instruments
and played out a moonlit sonata,

while a symphony of scarlet lights
blinked in sync
like fireflies

that bathed the Marsh in
fleeting crimson, a pulsating
vermillion.

The windmills weren’t there before,
they all went up
some years ago,

and though the terraform’s not
terrible
(I suppose it’s better for the Earth)

the flashing scared
the birds away, and
I miss the calm of Yesterday.