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Gabriel Yale Oct 21
I left you my beautiful woman,
Not because I wanted, because the world was collapsing..
I left you my goodness and loyal friend,
Not because I didn’t want to be close to you,
because people turned into zombie and separated us..
I left you and I am thinking about you every day,
Not because I am trying to hide from you, because I am still seeing your brightness and charming eyes with happy and innocent smile like when we met for a first time..
"Welcome to the future"

reliable rocket ship trade routes, for any rich man.
Flying cars made with science that everyone pretends the myth-busters didn't invent first.
Dead rap stars and anime girls performing,
live on stage with smoke and mirrors
and a government that redefines the word Live,
and operates on smoke and mirrors

"Welcome to the future"

There is a company developing brain chips
so you can watch me climb this mountain,
just synch up with my vision
Also, while you're in my head
check out these commercials I'm hearing from the drone propaganda radios
Feel how this rock feels, synthetic and stamped with advertisements
smell what I'm smelling,
the propane, the soot.

You think this sounds crazy?
There's a little magic rectangle in your pocket.
to Record and send audio, take a photo,
we are halfway
we're just making every science fiction dream a reality

"we're so ******"

What's gonna happen when the world
runs out of dreams to make true?
marty mc-fly got his self strapping shoes, and also we got heelys
and sometimes we got self strapping heelies that glew in the dark
these things are ancient technology now
but we aren't far from the delorian

...or a nuclear apocalypse.

We have flying cars!
when we get flying houses, islands,
when we populate mars
when we umbilicord ourselves to technological advances
hack, splice,
stich in memory chips, nerolinks
Who's gonna come up with the new dreams?

Who's gonna pen the next future
when everyone has seen the jetsons
outside their window.

Bring me the most creative,
innovative minds,
Untouched by the rhetoric
Who will be our new gods?
Will it be the artists?

Bring me the Children.

"Welcome to the playground"

Words of aspiration graffitied on trump tower
Kaiju stuffed bears with saddles transporting business suit toddlers to their desks
where they draw, and draw, and draw
Mechanical dinosuars replacing trains.
Shutes and ladders everywhere
We will put our faith in mommy
and she will be beautiful
just like me.
we will pray to mother
she will rain affection
guide the pint sized diaper academy
while the adults sit in sensory boothes,
occulus rift 99.5.0 on their heads
feeding tube, cathader, an ash tray of tiny blue pills.
a small child hired to wipe their *** once in awhile,
for minimum wage
Which now is $200 an hour,
they still can't get health care
the lowest plan offers crayon insurance
that they can't use until they are promoted to artist

So they pray and pray to their mother religion
but mother doesn't exist here.

only birth robot
only television parasite
only plugged in queens and worker boys

we have the responsibility
to mold these tiny minds
if we **** up, remember
the fate of the world
was never in our hands
it was in very tiny hands
with pencils in them

"Welcome to the future"
"Welcome to the future"
"welcome to the future"
He says "Geek Poet!
Leave the politics alone
Stick to Pop culture"

Politics ARE Pop culture.
don't you see?

in a world where businesses
buy natural disaster insurance
In fear of presidential tweets
McDonald's burger vending machines
You think this isn't dystopia?

We play games to escape.
where can we go when the real world is
scary as the upside down?

Tell me, Cousin.
Where do you write your poetry?
is it safe?

Do you surround yourself with coffee?
Turn your back to a naked woman?
is there whiskey on the bar,
A journal,
your favorite pen?
Your cell phone,
clentching in the public restroom?

because no matter where you are.
that sanctuary
is a ******* pillow fort compared to the
Fort Knox of an artists imagination

politics ARE pop culture
China is throwing unfathomable
amounts of money into Propaganda
targeting millennials though memes.
Fish don't see water, remember?

You are telling me
I can't write about politics.
There are Americans
who have never voted,
posting radical left and right facebook posts.
protecting and attacking A Racist,
selfish, blemish on our history.
you wonder why we are scared, Cousin?

You want to know why I am so loud?

I watch Men step alligator shoe
out of Boston limousines
Slicked back hair straight
from wolf of wallstreet
belligerent screaming
"I do what I Waaaaaaant!"
"She does what she waaaaaaaaaaaaants!"
"We do what we waaaaant!"

This is the world
we're escaping from.
Excuse me if I break
from the zombie jokes
The vampire romances
Focus on the dead bodies
in our own city, Cousin.

Our demons are real now.

dystopian literature
called for the 2017 election
as far back as the 1930s'

Senator Buzz Windrip
from "It can't happen here"
by Sinclair Lewis
makes promises
to "return America to a better time".
back in 1935

buying validity for his ideas
in airtime on the radio,
tarring those who disagree,
as tools of mother russia,
dismissing woman,
as silly socialists.
naming the press
"a lot of irresponsible wind bags."

In the book "Parable of the talents",
Octavia butler Predicts a "Pox" In 2015
Wiping most of the population.
She wrote this book in 1998

Andrew Steele Jarret
becomes president
promising to return the country
to an "Older Simpler time"

Want to learn how to defeat Trump?
Read "Our Twisted Hero,"
by Yi Munyol

"In the Heart of the Valley of Love, "
by Cynthia Kadohata

All of these Dystopian fantasies
Prepare the Geeks to rise up
and fight.
Pop culture is the only thing saving us
Knowledge is the only thing saving us
Standing up.
Making art.
Being loud
Is the only thing saving us
from the red button
in the orange hands
of the man who NEVER Had
the best words.

We The Artists
The Geeks who will inherit the earth
Swear to protect our words.
We will not bow, bend, or break.
Ink is the blood of prophets
The voice is a weapon

excuse me if I use Mine to educate
rather than distract.
Forgive me for spitting on anxiety paper-cuts
from our government
paperback of bigotry
labeling myself neosporin
praying God, PLEASE
let me be charismatic enough.
Let me incite placebo healing for a small fraction
of the tortured anxiety pretzels
I walk along each day.
I am sick of being tall because
my friends are too busy crawling.

I will preach Art as our gospel, Cousin.
You can't Incite Revolution
by throwing dice at ghosts
Our Pop Culture IS Politics.
I'm putting all my stat points into inspire
Watch how high I roll.
Watch it Live here:;
Sienna Luna Jan 2016
Going to sleep
is the best thing
a person can do.
After a long day of work
just slip under the covers
clean, wrinkled, soft and daring
the night a comfortable pillow
in which to rest sleepy tired eyes
while finishing a dystopian sci-fi movie
taking place in the desert.
Furiosa takes the night
across her shoulders
black engine grease smeared
across her forehead as Mad Max
rides shotgun
before the heat consumes them.
Enjoying every sand crusted
machine cranked thrusted
water tank bomb shell.
She is the best kind of heroine
taking complete control
of the current situation.
But sometimes there’s a break
when the dusk becomes depth
merging into the white halo of moon
slivered like a cut thumbnail
just hanging there, lifeless.
And this is when
the truth becomes
completely apparent.
Resting one’s body
after a tough week
of physical and emotional sickness
becomes first priority
where relaxation nods its weary head
to slumber under a pile of blankets.
Mandy Owensby Oct 2014
For the briefest of moments,
a few shallow breaths,
a rolling shock of cold numbness creeps
as my gaze falls on the sleeping face next to me.
the short burst of amnesia leaves me adrift
as if I could slip off the edge of the world
a world and a self that seem for a moment, so unrecognizable
so wrong, I shake my head, I must have this wrong.
All is lost, it has always been lost, in that moment.
Then the warmth returns, and I see that it is my life laid out before me. I am no visitor here.
The haunting feeling that I have known this truth before. This eternal emptiness
just around the edges
the opposite of deja vu.
Pete Badertscher Jun 2014
Modern man stood--
Looking towards the horizon, seeing the past.
The red blood of a thousand dying sunsets
colored his face in ghosts.
Unmindful of the Tears flowing freely
man lifts its hand to reach out--
Native spirits of a desolate world
cast their gazes away and toward the ground.
This is a work in progress.  I like the imagery and simplicity, but it still feels really rough.

— The End —