#futurism
A space-age fortress of glitzy build
stands empty. It had once been filled
with shining futures of tinsel, milled
of bronze for a time that all would thrill.
How empty the future past now seems
behind the glass of wasted dreams:
Once polished steel now dimly gleams
and old high tech lies there unredeemed.
Its giant clock now standing still,
the hands unmoving, like hopes that will
remain as frozen in amber that’s filled
with flies of dreams: placebo pills.
Jan 22, 2025
Jan 22, 2025 at 2:34 PM UTC
Fifty years ago, the future came,
built in concrete, tile, and bright lights,
underground station, undergirding the fame
of this city, adding to its manifold sights.
Now the future’s a place that smells of stale beer,
barely lit by futuristic lamps in disrepair,
wallpapered in graffiti, strewn with gear
of the pale homeless who’ve made this their lair.
They, like this chipped, grimy, forsaken place
are left in the dust of our dreams’ mercury pace.
Jan 17, 2025
Jan 17, 2025 at 2:40 PM UTC
The promise of a future bright
encased in a temporal temple:
It sits among Berlin’s blinking lights,
a spaceship made to resemble.
Its oracles stood in this aluminum starchurch
dressed in sparkling ABBA track suits,
alit by glittering disco ***** with lights that search
for the future’s many loyal recruits.
But futures seldom turn out the way
that priests of the modern prophesy,
and this once sleek starship sits, decays
while stoic streams of cars drive on by.
What happened to the dreams we had
of federations who deep space explore?
Was it all just an ephemeral fad
now left in twilight, to be ignored?
Then again, this is Berlin, the place
that is built upon its broken dreams —
Utopias all cast aside, but which grace
this city with abandoned and fading gleams.
The starship sits in unending preflight,
awaiting the signal to lift off.
Its digital clock counts down to delight
but never makes it past Hasselhoff.
Climb aboard Battlestar Berlin, my friends,
fly with warp speed to nowhere at all.
Before you know it, the latest trends
will leave you yearning for total recall.
Jan 15, 2025
Jan 15, 2025 at 7:39 AM UTC
One more tiny dot,
turned into a watery stack of light in the reading.
One more little lamp,
turns my entire life into sorrow.
Every lantern I pass whispers to me
to go to eternal rest.
Every figure reminds me
of the beginning of my own passing,
and I cannot wait for the end,
and the end may be so near.
Jan 11, 2025
Jan 11, 2025 at 3:31 PM UTC
Spoken first, particular last
With a mightier introduction, ahead
Since sincerity, since seclusion, so fast...
Has the voice of a beautiful angel, awoken to lead...
Meetings of the mind
Continue in the voice, meager times
Hope and surmisal, can be so kind...
Letting a lost promise, become strength's trying...
Survival's prophecy, of the fittest
Where in, stirs of shared conscience
Is the can't, the cope of truth, a senses test...
Adage over communed liberty, overtly presence...
A tale of two liberty's
Shown a calling, a creed to instinct, due
Know a keep, beyond which is civility...
Ready an eye, of comprehension is anarchy's you...
Salt to salt, spice to spice
Where, out to dance among intuition's stars
Has the new voice, of now in love twice...
The rue of simplicity, the risk of summation, by far...
Oct 6, 2024
Oct 6, 2024 at 11:22 PM UTC
I sense loss and yearning all around
I used to chalk it up as a personal hurdle to jump
or just the feeling of aging while the youth still goes on
Yet I think I this malaise is widespread
Impacting all of us in our glitching global trade
I used to think the issue was there’s just too much now
Too much to watch, listen, and taste
You don’t need the hunt anymore
Don’t need to wait or pay some exorbitant price
I used to feel overstimulated by the streams
and just could not decide
I still feel, it’s not that we want to do the thing,
but we yearn to want to want to do the thing
again
Is that all that’s changed?
Those who are not ready to be creators
will certainly not be ready to be curators
Freed ourselves from DJs and TV programming
but what control have we flailed ourselves into?
Wasting hours a day watching 30 second videos
whose categories are heavily curated
impersonally, just for you
Remember when user preferences worked
and in searches they wouldn’t hide the whole list
of all that was relevant and new?
Jan 29, 2024
Jan 29, 2024 at 5:21 PM UTC
I’m shirtless after
getting too hot in the best kitchen stool spot
It’s where the dog will leave me alone for a sec
It’s a weird winter
every year now, but they say the Great Lakes are
the best place to ride climate change out
It’s been too cold, now it’s getting too hot for this time of year
so the old Watkins Glen hoodie was too much
I almost ripped the front neck like an 80s girl
but I didn’t have the strength
If walks are still out of the question,
I better start doing physical comedy
around the house like Three's Company because
I said I was going to
We could have had it all
we still could
We reached peak performance
we almost reached Star Trek replicators
The whole world enjoying life saving advancements
over a hundred years
Only for it to decline for the first time
instead of just sabotaged into a slowdown like before
Those billionaires want to stay relevant
Even though they’re beyond useless
They’re a detriment to our democratic progress
just to preserve their status as economic royalists
who decry the decline of Victorian social deference
Remember Kurt Vonnegut talking about his school
in the era of almost proficient public funding?
He was excited to have a jazz band
Until these types of things were deemed unimportant
for those who may need them most
Now we have the technology to exceed the speed and competence
of the 80s, 90s, and aughts
but the the profit motive just gets stronger and more depersonalized
We’ll teach them to fish by killing them all
Jan 23, 2024
Jan 23, 2024 at 7:23 PM UTC
The wheel of fortune turns for me,
And always, revolves at its own leisure.
Time is curved where the future will be,
But always flat when it is measured.
The rest is a serpent, in every direction,
Forever consuming the end of its tail.
Self contained death and resurrection,
Superluminal ship, without wind or sail.
Will you safekeep our knowledge when it is done?
Humanity’s worst as well as its best?
Will you mind if it’s turtles, all the way down?
A stable foundation on which to rest?
Where will you fall, at the teeth or the tail?
Destroying or rebuilding anew?
If All is cyclic, then we’ll meet once more,
Eternal versions of me and of you.
Aug 11, 2023
Aug 11, 2023 at 10:18 PM UTC
There was a bang at the door, but it wasn't the pizza.
Marcus revealed himself to a man standing a head taller, who was buttoned up in a well fitted suit.
"Mr. Williams?" the man asked.
Marcus shook his hand.
"Marcus. How can I help you?"
The man introduced himself as Daniel *** a representative for Eris Save States, LLC.
"Wow." Marcus stared down at this kitchen table.
Daniel gathered his papers, and bowed his head.
"I want to make it absolutely clear," Daniel said,
"You're under no obligation, whatsoever,
to take any action with this information.
I understand this may be overwhelming news."
Only muddy images came to Marcus's mind. Her light brown hair. Her green eyes. Her umber skin. Out of touch, out of reach. Running from mom, running from school. A ghost, ghosted him, and that was that.
Aug 17, 2019
Aug 17, 2019 at 12:39 PM UTC
Ta ta ta tan
Ta ta ta tan
Hands, footsteps, words;
Ta ta ta tan
Ta ta ta tan
Lovers, haters, friends;
Ta ta ta tan
Ta ta ta tan
Landscapes, people, sands;
Ta ta ta tan
Ta ta ta tan
Day after day,
Hours after hours.
This is my last stop, and yours?
Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 2:47 PM UTC
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Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 8:41 PM UTC
There is an algorithm out there,
somewhere on the web
it is calculating my every click
my likes, my comments
how many hours I spend at night
browsing poetry
or probably ****
There is an algorithm out there,
somewhere on the web
it collects my style, my taste
it knows my favorite color,
it has studied my face
the way no lover ever has,
down to the freckle.
There is an algorithm out there,
somewhere on the web
it knows things about me
my friends or family would never ask.
It knows how many times
I have searched the word 'suicide'
how many times I asked for nudes
and how many times I received.
It knows my greatest fears
but also my most coveted dreams.
It knows things about me
I may have forgotten about me.
There is an algorithm out there,
somewhere on the web
it has created an image of me
I would rather not see
nor believe in its legitimacy
yet every time I go to type
its guesses my next thought
with pinpoint accuracy.
There is an algorithm out there...
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 6:03 PM UTC
I leave the day to those outside exiles.
I leave the warm sun to the reptiles.
I want to feel the breeze in my face,
I want to run through the streets!
I want to feel my heart jump and race,
I want to dance to my own heartbeats!
I want to hear breathing from my chest,
I want to live fully, while all others rest.
I want motion to be perpetual and mine,
I want to feel everything, tipsy from wine.
I want your lips pressed against my neck
I want to be happy without looking back.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC