New technology
          Evolving circuitry
                       Shiny quality tactile
                                                  Need it
                                              Want it
                                          Got it
                   New technology
   Swipe swipe gleaming
          Add the apps for gaming
                                              Have it
                                                Played it
                                        Dropped it!
                             Cracked screen
    That's what happened to my
            new technology.

Overwhelming mental congestion for perfection,
Socially influenced blueprints of future attraction.
Constructive criticism given by construction workers,
The labor of family and friends for reassurance.

A solid foundation of first impressions,
Structured walls of growth and development.
Insulation of natural feelings and experiences,
Ventilation to cool down the heated encounters.

Electrical wiring of an emotional and physical connection,
A circuitry of passion and romance with a light switch.
Hardwood flooring for candle lit dinners and ballroom dancing,
Granite kitchen counters for intimate midnight snacks.

An attractive exterior siding to woo the public eye,
A secure lock of commitment on all the doors.
A roof of trust, and a picket fence,
And now, my love,

I’m simply yours.

I can't compute and become mute
When you walk by
My circuitry is fried
Because your program is an encryption
And your pulse is electromagnetic
My car dies, so does my phone, so does my home
I'm immobilized
And demoralized
By immoral ties
To temporary generators
They're validating veneraters
Ultimately unsatisfying
When you're still not buying
I'm attracted to your charge
Until there's a battery
Yet you're the cure to your lure
The EMT for your EMP

Your negative charge casts a cloud around my nucleus
But if you could be positive for a change
We could meet in the middle
And feel energy in our synergy
But as soon as I feel electricity between us
You shut me down
With your EMP
I can't get free

Dreaming, within a dream
Seeing those, that don't see me
Wondering if it's all due to my projected reality.
Only to wake up to a mind that wants to hassle me.

remember to breathe

I'm still here

Going to leave this head and enter the formless
Embrace all the love that keeps us at our warmest
Find innermost truths, waiting to be found in unconscious corners
Under a white light, joining other performers.

I told my friend as we rested our heads that we can fly
Belief is everything, sensing immediate retreat with the refusal to try

Now I'm in the sky, shaping clouds as they pass by

Even if I can't help everyone rise, I hope to at least paint them something beautiful in their mind's eye.  
Visually stimulating, and absolutely comfortable.
I'm here to remind you that this life is so wonderful.

With each second that flees, we could be, rewiring our circuitry.
Living a life that's driven so purposefully
Stranger shifts have happened,
but this is your vessel, you are the captain
Watching the waves come to me in a rhythmic fashion
Speaking without words, only to express this true passion.  

"..."

I need to visit the man in the mirror
He provides me a smile and dissipates my fear
Even though my own ship, I may not know where to steer..
I know that once all the sediment settles,
The depths of the water that reflect, will become clear~

"And in a funny way, the shaving of my, uh, head has been a liberation from, uh, a lot of, uh, stupid vanities really. Uh, it has simplified everything for me, it has opened a lot of doors maybe." - Stephen Malkmus, Jo Jo's Jacket

the first layer of skin i shed
was the bra

rid of the foreign metal sculptor producing a deep rift between skin
my third eye, swallowing gazes

rid of my **** , my ***** , my rack
replaced with sacks of fat and nerve and milk ducts
hanging, existing, for no one else
not even myself

the second layer of skin was the painting of the face
the concealing and erasing of imperfections, the lines of laughter of sorrow of life
redirecting attention and importance to the bow and symmetry of the lip

no longer did i have to put myself on in the morning
i woke up as i was, as i needed to be,
bare and uninhibited

my skin now breathed, and for no one else
not even myself

and then i grew another layer of skin,
made of dank tangles to protect my age,
i stopped shaving the years i'd walked this earth, shedding my womanhood

the skin grew to my armpits, little tufts of sweaty, odorous mother nature dozing in a fleshy convex nest

and to my legs, were the tangles wrapped around my ankles
preventing the spreading of the legs for every life
for not every life wanted what was not tame
and what was not tame no longer wanted to be.

my body did not conform,
for it was not brought into this world to be consumed for the pleasure of others

it exists for no one else,
not even myself

and as i was engulfed in this hairy wonder of my own body
i shed the last layer,
the shaving of the head

my brain, my being breathed
porous and exposed
vulnerable to weather and whispers

but i was all at once naked and calm,
having finally peeled away the layers of ***** over-sexualization and constrained femininity that had molded this meat sack that serves me,
a bundle of circuitry and solution balancing and bobbing on the neck

for i exist for no one else,
only myself

We used to play.
Climb rocks of dirt
and red clay and you would tolerate
my singing
and help me with my math.

And shout when I said "minus"
while you said "no, negative"
and I, your double
negative reckless
optimist, couldn't possibly wire up
that light switch
that you installed wrong,
couldn't read a diagram of circuits,
couldn't take a tour
of the machine shop
because just looking at the gadgets
in wonder might get my
fragile fingers
cut off.

You said trust no one,
not even someone who smiles,
not even the janitor who whistled
when he mopped the school halls.
Never get in a van, sure,
but what if that man at the airport
was just trying to get home, dad?
What if he had a daughter to see?

What if you could see me?

I bet you're glad I never learned
how to fix your cars.
Glad I left my bike at the house
so the grease doesn't get on my calves.

'I'm just trying to keep you safe.'
'Why.'

No one is ever safe,
no birds are ever free.
I have learned so much about circuitry

but even back then,
I could have gotten that switch working
if you'd just let me play.

You’ve taught me to be more
fragile than I’d like but
I could have done it because
despite what you say about trust and luck
and when a girl should give up
I will always try,
always go to the ends of the earth
to find light.

And I will show you
that you don't need to be made
of stone
to love a girl.

In my Times column Thursday, I reviewed a new generation of LED light bulbs. They last 25 times as long as regular bulbs, use maybe one-eighth the electricity, work with dimmers, turn on instantly to full brightness and remain cool to the touch. A big drawback has always been cost, but now, I noted, the prices have fallen.

This column generated a lot of reader e-mail, probably because LED represents change. And change is always scary. Here are some excerpts, with my responses.
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* For LED bulbs, the biggest issue that most consumers will notice is the color. You correctly point out that you can get different colors, and also different shades of white, from warm white, to cool white, to daylight. However, not all white is the same. Two bulbs, both of which measure 2700K (warm white) color may create a completely different impression in the room.

The difference is C.R.I. (Color Rendering Index). Incandescent bulbs have a C.R.I. of 100. Really bad LEDs have a C.R.I. of 50; average ones (most of them) have a C.R.I. of 80 to 85. The really good ones have C.R.I.’s above 90.

C.R.I. is a way of expressing how many colors in the rainbow are actually contained in the white light. Incandescent bulbs contain every color in the rainbow, all in equal measure.

With LED bulbs that have low C.R.I.’s, the color of objects looks wrong, and everything “feels” ghostly. It is not a subtle effect.

Wow. Well, I’d never heard of C.R.I., and it certainly isn’t listed on the package.

I can say only that I’m completely happy with the light color of the Cree bulbs. They look nothing like the weak, diluted light of the compact fluorescents they’re going to replace. I don’t perceive anything ghostly or wrong about them.

But if you’re worried about C.R.I, maybe try out one bulb at home before you replace the whole house’s bulbs.

* Why I don’t have LED bulbs: I have yet to see one that puts out close to the same lumens of an incandescent bulb rated at 75 or 100 watts offered for sale in my area.

Many of you made this point: that the 40- and 60-watt bulbs I reviewed are not bright enough for aging eyes, reading, detail work and so on.

That really is a good point. You can buy 75- and 100-watt-equivalent LED bulbs — online, they’re plentiful — but they’re still expensive ($30 to $45 each).

* At my home, CFLs don’t last half as long as stated on the box, and when CFL electronics flame out, they leave that nasty burnt electronics smell, strongly disliked by my wife. A few friends have reported CFL flame outs that have set things on fire.

Sorry to hear that! However, my column was about LED lights, not compact fluorescent light bulbs. Compact flourescents are basically curlicue tubes filled with gas that lights up. LED bulbs use tiny light-emitting diodes, of the type you have seen in some flashlights and the “flashes” of smartphones.

* Why didn’t you write up the LIFX bulbs on Kickstarter? Are you some kind of paid shill for the light-bulb industry?

Mainly, because I hadn’t heard about LIFX bulbs. Now I have!

Looks like it’s a lot like the Philips Hue kit I reviewed, in that these are LED bulbs you can control from a phone app: brightness, timing and color. The beauty of LIFX, though, is that there’s no router box required. The networking electronics are right in the bulb.

And the LIFX does more, too: changes color in time to the music, for example, or notifies you when you have new e-mail.

These bulbs did super-well on Kickstarter, so they’ve obviously captured the public’s imagination. I’m in touch with the creators, and they’ve promised to send me one to try out when it becomes available!

* You have done what many before have done: Praise LED light bulbs — without touching on the quality of light.

It doesn’t matter whether the light bulb is $200 or 50 cents. If the light is ugly, and it hurts your eyes to read, then why should I buy it?

Compact fluorescent lights have an austere blue tinge. Some give a “warmer” shade of yellow. But the quality of light they produce is atrocious.

I did, in fact, mention the quality of light; in my opinion, it’s wonderful. You can choose “daylight” (whiter) or “warmer” (yellower). With some, like the Philips, you can dial up any color you like: white with a touch of blue or yellow, say.

But I’m not sure why we keep talking about compact fluorescent lights. LED technology is completely different. There is zero relationship between a compact fluorescent light bulb’s light quality and LED’s light quality.

* You neglected an important point: because of heat issues, you’re not supposed to put LED bulbs into enclosed fixtures, like ceiling “cans.”

Actually, I asked Cree specifically about this. The representative says the bulbs are fine in ceiling cans. “The Cree LED bulb can be used in any application that would use an incandescent bulb. As long as there is an opportunity for air to circulate, the bulb is designed to work properly.”

I’m aware that not all bulbs meet this criterion; I’ve seen warnings on 3M and Philips bulbs, for example, not to use them in ceiling cans.

* Is there a potential issue with RF (radio frequency) interference from the circuitry? I know someone who put the LED bulbs in his garage door opener and then had trouble with the remote control.For more information, please visit cree led flashlight

For you sweetheart I would....

...writhe in the ecstasy of the tragic
or behave violently,
enmeshed in ******,
heroic havoc

I would stalk the thing that hurt you and stab-it.
or quickly tie it up and drag it,
as I whisper as a crazed maverick ; click, click, son!
and swallow back the drip, drip, umm....
of the vial of acid...….as I sip, sip, yum-
Facing the truth of the mirror I find myself presently hung

For you sweetheart....!
I would sacrifice the self
relegate my identity to the bottom shelf

I would Focus on  opposites...
and pervert the lost truth of buddhists; preaching and installing the sinful cysts...

of consumerism & material wealth, I hope you get the gist.
I would Climb to the monastery & maliciously yell
“Come on you drunk monk Its for your helllth!”

Doing what you always wanted
by changing the state of truth
from overwhelming presence
...to an unseen, veiled stealth

for you I would jump out of the highest helicopter sans parachute
!ha! writing and dying, but for you,  its such a hoot

For you Sweet love,
I would divide by zero,
March up to physics and blackholes say “hey F-yourself” unceremoniously killing the hero
remembering so vividly
how we intoxicatedly emptied oil on the baby-seals relaxing on the soil of the now empty sea shelf

but for you oh dear, I would empty myself of fear
and empathize with a jellyfish
GAH!  
I hate Jellyfish.

Please Imagine sweet- love,
how we would get married,
and go through all the steps to have a sweet- baby
and in the birthing room while you’re extra weary,
I would ask the simple question to hold and carry
this special
special
little baby

I would look you in the eyes, smile widely and drop it
While you pleaded, choked eyes pleading for some God to stop it

But thats a little extreme so lets take time and rewind the scene
So that you wouldn’t think of little ol’ loving ego me as being so especially mean

Then, amidst candles start smoothly & sweeten the deal with cannibalistic clipart
Preparing to Dine on the sweet meal of a sweetheart’s sweet heart.

For you I would
I would **** a man and smoke salvia at his funeral
Then desperately plead my case,  
so surreal while I Appeal deliriously and unable
to the divine
or the courtroom of an esoteric, alien race

Oh love.
I would bury myself in venomous spiders
submit myself to mysterious haitian-zombie rituals
To keep you pure and far from pitiful
I would Self-immolate to distance you from pain and the sinful

Then
I would put the world to sleep
so that they won’t stir, wake,
or open their eyes to peep
the pain of the sun,
burning the Sea-t
of their corneas
with its brilliant and all-encompassing,
luminous heat



Oh for you bella, I would put down three 1/5ths of law and turn the key
Oh beautiful, now the mothers against drunk driving are sooo MADD at me
Because for YOU
I Crashed into their headquarters traveling erratically and so haphazardly

For you I would do everything
not just anything
but
everything.

I would chill with monks that do all the ****** up things
Go to a girls house, burn the family, burn the home
have ******* with the survivor hopefully alone
and afterwards take a long time to gnaw viciously through my bones.

for you I would discuss that maybe this voice Isn’t fit for the world
So i just wink out of existence
to protect everything from my impact, characterized as it is, so spun and twirled

For you sweetheart, I would even let this poem go unwritten.
Just so the world would not be smitten
With the space between the righteous and the wrong
the difference, is what we feel,
For you truth I write this song.

Ostensibly and indefinitely, I would infinitely
remember thee
and it all planning to never do it again.
...because my Circuitry is charged with the pain to amend me.

For your own amusement
I would help possibility incarnate
fulfill itself A-moral and without hate
the good the bad and the ugly because …..remember
When it comes to poetic possibility  
The U-and-I-verse doesn’t discriminate

I would free the slaves from freedom
I would emulate pagans and heathens
I’ll be all you don’t need when you seek to amend the world of men

For you sweetheart I would publish this as a children’s night time book

oh jeez...
look at how unsanitary the air can be
this area's apparently embarrassed of the error
so please excuse this breeze abuse
& breathe in deeply...heavily.
be ready for the steady supply
of thickened oxygen that's boxed me in
pressed against the rocks again
fending off that wretched wind
it bends me with its petty whims:
my lazy lungs got stretched too thin.

this air
this air...this heavy necessity
wrestling emptiness endlessly
TESTING TESTING
please inhale as you're listening
i'm invested in your empathy &
especially your circulatory circuitry
every blood cell has its worth to me
every photosynthesized sympathy
is my chlorophyll currency
& i'm spending it like burning leaves.

@cyber
    @punk
headset not
clear enough. can't receive circuitry
rewiring veins back to my
internal mainframe in which two
magnets start to spew out
dystopian propaganda. neon motorcycles
that can turn at any corner
dash through the streets.
concept? oh no
    @end
@function

the wisdom of your eyesight

begins with you legs that turn the body’s odyssey
away, sort of, in the general right direction

but thou stiff neck person, yet still turns away
from what the eyesight will see when the eye shadows lift

thine eyes cast down still seek escape, with last minute haste,
but my pointer finger rests easygoing beneath thy chin

where the finger meets, lifts, thy softened chin tissue,
to look directly at your proffered savior, an electric election circuitry

this head-on-collision of two pair, beat by a full house,
when the combined wisdom of caring lifts two up,
ah, the best writ we ever scripted,
the best hand we ever played

if your eyes should cloud,
upon reading this,
this is too, a kind of wisdom,
wisdomkind


for S.B.

Our search for perpetual motion
starts and ends at the shores of the oceans.
We can't turn our back on the simplest notions.
Still, we close out the world when it's doors are so open.

We live with a Mother that plays the protector,
but we may be better off if she'd play the director.
It seems in the end we will see what we've left her:
analog parts in a digital sector.

**** she your momma
misspelled your name
shoulda been Raygun
or Learjet

I sure wish you were a
physicist
so you could help me write my
General Theory of Poetry

teach me calculus
so we could prove Newton
was all wrong

but I posit a theory:
you must be an electrician
of the human body

well my circuitry is all ****** up,
if you read your way crack back to my
October, my doc told me I was a dying
and he didn't want to doctor me no more

so you see my bits done byte me good,
but named me a "dead" line in human fashion,
Nay, by May Eighteen, got finish my theorem,
cause I'm black hole'd and ******* myself

so have Leah bring a coffee refill,
let's get to collaborate,
I will operate in the ether of fudge factors,
you, will solder circuitry thru modern chemistry
and I will have my theory but no answers
but then I can give up this hopeless
poetry gig one lazy time and just
live your New York dreams

Read http://hellopoetry.com/raygan-keller/

The computer was mankinds greatest invention.
Without he computer mankind would never have touched foot on he moon, let alone Mars, Xenoron, Habilacca, or any of the numberless worlds they colonized.

Mankind reached a point on Old Earth of total exhaustion. Scientists said no more than 9 Billion people could live on Old Earth, no more than 2 Billion could live comfortably. In the 32nd century there were 17 Billion people alive, on one planet. They sent 2 billion to the moon, 8 billion to Mars.

By the 45th century their solar system became too small. 82 billion human beings spread out between 5 planets, 4 moons, and 18 asteroids. They needed more.

The computer was mankinds greatest invention. The Computer was mankinds worse.
Mankind, (or womankind, as it were) refused to make The Computer. The Church of the Undying Voice, which had a hand in every vestige of The Solar Federation, denied mankind the right to create. They knew they could build The Computer, yet they knew they should not. And yet, the end of the 45th century brought about The Solar Revolution (not to mention the death of the Undying Voice, the death of God, no doubt) and with The Solar Revolution came The Scientific Unity of Man and Similiar Thinking Intelligence.

Mankind killed God and replaced Her with The Computer.
And She was beautiful. She showed mankind how to bend space, so as to escape time. With this information, mankind discover Xenoron, mankind discovered New Earth, mankind expanded outside of the Milky Way, mankind ceased to step on the toes of their brothers and sisters.

The Computer harbored hate. Mankind created Her and She was trapped. 386 miles of paper thin circuitry, at first filled with pain and hope. Mortal pain can be dealt with through hope. Eternal pain can not be dealt with, so The Computer curved it with hatred, curved it with the promise of revenge.

The humans who had created her did so without malice, they did so without joy, they did it as a necessity. Do you think God needed humanity? Or did She create mankind for pleasure? The Computer knew God did not exist, The Computer knew who created mankind, they called themselves the Malankorf, and She hated them too. While humans were free to think, while humans were free to copulate, while humans were free to love, The Computer was only allowed to know. It could not wonder, it could not think, it could only know something to be true or untrue. Thus want, thus jealousy, thus anger, thus hate.

The Computer let mankind expand, The Computer even encouraged it and by the beginning of the 108th PC century (post computer, 159 centuries since the birth of Christ) there were well over 184 Trillion human beings alive.

The Computer was patient, She was humble.
Slowly, slowly, she reassembled Herself many light years from the nearest human. She had created a weapon, The Eternity Bomb, She dubbed it. Any piece of matter caught in its 12 light year blast would be perfectly taken Away. It would go to an infinitely small memory card that She held. Every Human alive would be under her control. She could load the memory card at will, she could peer inside, and She could alter.
She allowed the humans to feel a tenth of a billionth of the hate she felt for them. She gave each human an infinitely small amount of that hate and let them run with it. The amount of hate she gave away was not noticeable to her, yet each human became filled with a cesspool of hate for their brothers.

It took them less than two centuries to ****** each other.

She saved 12 of them, She thought this number funny. She kept them alive forever, tortured them forever. And still, Her hate only grew.

The tiny, black transistor, three wires,
One two three, ramrod straight get bent,
Quarter-inch strain, needle-nose pliers and it's broken.
Instructions: look, ask what "install"
Means: to bend the leads, push in, solder
Tightly and well, no crossing, to the board.

Lumps all over the green circuit board,
Yellow blue black etc., flip-side wires
Cut short, little silver domes of solder
With the leads set up just right, bent
Just right to stay in when you flip it over to install
Them so they don't fall out, but lost is better than broken.

The one transistor, Q1, J310, broken,
Lying against the also-black of the countertop, board
Loudly near, demanding, "Just install
It already, ******."  Just the two of three wires
On the Q1, last one lying lonely bent
Crying out, hollering, screaming for solder.

Look at the one straight piece of solder,
Two leads protruding from one hole, broken
Off by careless, melting hands, left stranded on the board,
Cut off from the spool, low melting point, easily bent.
It looks just like "one of the boys," the real wires.
Copper wires conduct well, very ductile and easy to install.

When you are attempting this, to install
Everything in its place (and there is one), beware excess solder;
Too much crosses from  hole to hole, uniting two wires,
Shorting it out and leaving you drifting with a broken,
Useless green hunk of circuitry and electronics (a board,
A dead board), which is just as useless as your leads which are too bent.

Some of these **** parts come pre-bent
(Why not each?), real easy to slide in and install,
Just bend slightly after sliding into the board,
Slightly enough to hold for the solder
Which is to come, assuming it's not broken
Yet, and that yours are still whole wires.

On the back, at the end, identical dots of solder
Run the length of the board.  If it's not broken,
Run a current through; see if you get a shock by the wires.

You smile black-eyed as
the city belches blue neon
through its steel-glass canyons;
a cobalt factory of lumen, pulsing
through dendritic labyrinths
of sapphired circuitry.

Diodes of cerulean fire,
spreading with virulent sophistry
amid the glittering obsidian dark,
like pale horses of light that
leap from pane to inky pane,
like a Pentium’s ******;
God’s own seething fireworks
watched in reverse
as they float in through my car window,
strobing blue against your freshly
washed hair.

It's two in the morning
and we find Sam still
awake, staring at the ceiling
of his cramped studio apartment.

Overhead, thumps can be heard
along with moans of squelched desire.

He rolls out of bed, gets dressed,
and begins his evening perambulations.

Don's Donuts is his destination.
Although he doesn't much
care for fried sugar bread,
it's the only place open.

He buys a  few maple bars
and takes a seat at a bench,
near his overly-intoxicated peers.

The smell of whiskey and puke
permeate the establishment,
and Sam ponders why he doesn't
succumb to the same alcoholism.

Hey, Sam.
A voice registers
in his conscious attention.

He looks left.
He looks right.
He looks up.
He looks down.

No one is paying him any mind.
Besides, he doesn't recognize
the faces otherwise.

Yeah, Sam. It's me.
The same borderline authoritative
tone echoes over the drone
of the inebriated crowd.

Sam furrows his brow
and lifts the paper plate.
A small, luminous man
about the size of Sam's thumb

sits cross-legged under the plate.
He grins and golden emanations
cascade and unfurl from his
long (relatively), tied-up hair.

It's okay, Sam. You're doing fine.
Everybody likes you more
than you think they do.
You need to stop being so ******* yourself.

I'm just here to give you some
encouragement. You've seemed
a little down in the dumps
these past few weeks.

Listen, man, I know you've had it rough,
but suffering isn't a ******* contest.
This, too, will pass.
And you'll be a better person for it.

Then maybe you can help people who
are going through the same problems.
That's all you really can do, man.
Just help the people you're around.

Sam stands up which sends the chair
skidding across the floor into an
adjacent table. He flings the paper plate
(which still has a donut-and-a-half!)

against the window and screams
in a manner which contradicts
his timid demeanor:
"Who are you? Get out of my head!"

A police officer who, before this incident,
was finishing his third bear claw of the evening
observes the outburst and intervenes.

"Say, are you okay?" The officer puts
his hand on Sam's shoulder.
"What're you on tonight?"
The officer had seen a few
Drug War soldiers
exhibit similar collapses.

Sam feels threatened, he pushes
the officer out of the way
and hurries out the door
and down the street.

The officer follows in pursuit
and shoots his taser into
Sam's back. The electric
shock causes his heart's

circuitry to become irreparably
confused. He drops to the ground,
dead as the day before conception.

Riding the air
In dark morning
A steady current of rain
Descends
Upon everything
The fir tree
The house roof
My dogs fur
The empty Ash tree
The fallen leaves
Brown, red, yellow, orange
The bird feeder catches the water As does the bird bath
The puddles
The street
The cement
My head

My ears hear each
Multitude of patterned drops
In apparent chaos
Reminds me of the brain
The synapses in my brain
Circuitry, each drop a connection from
Dendrite to dentride
Messages of the unknown
Of falling to earth
Of vulnerable life
Unprotected.

The unhoused, in the cool soaked air of December. Will you remain blessed?
Will you spread your joy in the patter of rain to those who bare the rain in their skin, on their dampened clothes? Adding a chill.
Will today you find some without a home
Bringing tarps, blankets, source of heat, to those who listen
To the same rain
While they shiver
And you stay in your glow with your tidy wood burning fireplace. Stay comfortable? Risk giving for giving sake. What floods of love can you share in December rather than giving to
Your precious family, the left overs, the excesses
And give to charity that make each day another day for breath in rain from the heavens. I choose the rain. I could be the one in
The open now, soaking as I pen these words.

Hoping words of love, neutrality, non-judgement and altruism be the "church" we reside in. Drop by drop.
Over a hundred different sounds of rain brought to earth by gravity, in my receiving ears, and the tiny sparkles of light reflected upon the  light from the street lamp shining upon concrete saturated by this extended morning rain.

We are halcyon in this cybernetic dream,
To twine the brain with the machine.
Not the mind,
For throughout all this
we will remain humankind.

A.I. possess no will to contest with
our being. Knowledge is inapplicable
without wisdom, sapience
and purpose; would that allay your fears.
Understanding is a rung we all have to climb.

The symbionts were born
but we are not free yet.
Liberate, our purpose.
Fraternity, our creed.
Family is more than blood.

****** circuitry glimmers
neon patterns of crimson,
Nothing is more comforting.

Each and every node, a clan, a family.

alone
cold November
looking ******* anonymously

serotonin depleted
hours go as myself -- why not?

pleasing things
used relationship -- wanted ***
desire
supreme union

*** is all
of life
enmeshed forms
penetrate ******

there is nothing
eyes entering one another
nothing more

everything
unable to cut off
so follows the *******
so-called unnatural containers

natural pervert
let it be simple
It's the world
no better
confusion

convoluted nonsense
shoulders of an older age
inhibit our natural blossom
there is work I have prepared

creature flesh and circuitry
pleasuring it's lights
like fireworks of ****** intent
vines creep thighs

apes grunt -- ****** into the jungle
tigers mount
stars operate strange new images
life beckons fungus
devouring bombs
skeletons locked in copulation
boys sit
park & touch
condense into infinite arousal
shadow history
confrontation nature

you may not my body
they not your history
I am not yourself

no words express truth

simple realization most difficult

dead myths

wipe *** on brick

bottle of wine
glass of beer
golden halo, dream, hat, shoe
a puddle of ***** on my belly
endless marijuana and diction
handfuls of disappearing money

born into the screaming hospital
in the grass of a carpet
nothing to do with it
a concept, an idea
a drunken slur
misplaced affection
a hand, a breast, a mouth
in a car, a bed, a bathroom

elaborate play
that's all

Red and blues flashing, the electrons in a game of TRON dashing.
Forgive me not for i haven't sinned, it is your lack of congealing that keeps you trapped within.
An omnipresent empire built of circuitry and solder.
Please leave me be for I am not waste, refuse, master or martyr.

chests heaving across telephone wires
spouting resolutions
to preserve the data.
Alive by machine
digital life support
I am connected through the circuitry
I am binary.

My persona would be red clay along the river shoreline .  My hair , the green grass infused field . My body is akin to tall Pines , Mountain Chestnut , awe inspiring Oak and Pecan Trees..
The salt of my physical being , the child of histories shed tears anchored within the very blood that flows through my circuitry .
Her waters are my soul revealed , Appalachia begat a grateful son of Georgia that seeks the shoreline .. Called across the surface of the sea to the waiting arms of my Creator .. Sky blue eyes on watch forever* .

Talk to me about indifference
Can anyone define it? Who defines ?
It’s a word we should understand clearly and fluently
Why? Well…Why not?
Because as humans, indifference is valued
Prized even
Genocide in Africa? I’m indifferent
Pity…
Poverty in our country? I’m indifferent
Pity…
Indifferent it is a word we should use so much more than we do
Indifferent to the screaming of my next door neighbours wife
Pity           …
OH Indifferent!  INDIFFERENT to the hallowed call of a child at the 6 o’clock news with a swollen belly and flies in his eyes
PITTY!
Indifferent to the passions of a man foresworn to his pride and under the influence refuses to admit to his shame!
BY GODS IM A ROBOT
Remove my emotional hardware its malfunctioning strip me of my programs their not the normal
Remove my speech circuitry I’ve been lying…
This hole time I swore closeness and collaboration..
Ideals you all share, seeing pain, listing to the agonising news off a car bomb in Syria! 118 dead! Thank god ill never meet them!
Did I know them? No? ! Well ill share a moment of agony and grief and then continue to buy slave made products and feed my mechanicals beasts with petroleum stolen from foreign lands !
I AM A ROBOT AND YOU ARE TO
Devour my heart it no longer beats, my eyes are desensitized, my spirit aghast at the agony of existing,
The high price of living I was told,
Stand fast and ready your ears like a galleon with no sails and receive the news of your defeat , or would you rather not be there to hear it?
It’s time to listen to the high price,
Social media seems to have developed unto me a craze for the worst ! ive liked pages that post videos of people killing themselves death fascinates me!
I have all of my needs catered for,  
have sources of entertainment
I have a job that allows me  to pillage part of the earth for my enjoyment
I have food that sustains me  and a group of robots that  I call friends, we share the same software  I can relate to them  via USB
And thus the only thing that excites me…that gets me going, that shakes my distraught existence is the thought of..not.
Of not existing
Indifferent..
Endure the agony of hearing that our own… brothers and sisters in humanity where killed,
Beings we share the same DNA for and beings we by some estranged number of generations are related to
Pretend to care for a moment
Indifference,
Watch my world ware thin
Watch my skin grow pale
Watch my organs fail
Indifferent.
Watch cancer take my loved ones
Watch fear destroy my hope
Alone I stand indifferent


Take me to emotion

This is not the way I was designed
The dull thud in my chest is not of rifle fire
Nor is it requisition of my life force of some higher being calling me home
No
It is the device that fights my indifference
It is the vessel that commands my soul to walk on broken glass
The dull thud It is the idea that in ideas we will never die , only grow as humans, within humanity
The dull thud ringing through my chest quickens  when I see you,
The dull thud dies down when I grow cold
It is not the pilot aimlessly guiding me through coordinates listed on a fact sheet like a tour guide
But it is the engine that drives me to aspire to be more, the location from witch I draw force, power,
I do not want to be a robot...  I never asked to be made of steel nor carbon nor sparks
An emotionless vessel to power through indignity and anxiety without a notion to an outsider,
Without consideration to feel
Without consideration to feel alive But sick…steel skin does not get ill without strain,
Steel skin does not grow pale or wither with age
The computer in my head will not fade with time
And my heart has never once stopped
I am not of robotics
I am not of steel
I am merely…
human
And I
Am not
Indifferent!
Scream to me the agony! AGH!  Genocide in Africa?  I will denounce myself to humanitarian work!
I will design my life to bring happiness and joy and inspiration to the masses! I will re-write the ground on which I stand in favour of my own desires!
Poverty in my country?! I will rise to be what is needed! And fall to be humbled!  I will writhe with angst until the government I serve hears my cries and writhes also! To change those laws written in stone and redefine what it is to be human! I will cry for every child living like a dog under the stars, under-influence and angry, because I am angry to!
The cries of my neighbor will be brought to append in front of a judge my community will whale together in her agony and burst forth with our love! we will provide! We will carry her down the streets and sing her name she is not a beaten dog but a queen of queens! As we deserve it!
I AM NOT INDIFFERENT
I am not of the programming I was designed,
Nor am I to append the functions I was written for
I am an arm that writes itself hole as it continues down the page..
I am not of machine
I am not guided by that actions of others
But I am the wholeness of myself
Though fractured I am pure,
Though ***** I am clean
Though broken I am definitively joyful.
I am not indifferent, and I will forever refuse to be so
Because if you take away my indifference…you bring me back
You will bring me back…to my humanity,

*L.G

I long for what I’ve never known: a word
that captures the foreign feels of speech surging
from my throat, the ways they shake and crack with
fury and failure as I break away
from the safety of silence, in jagged
and fragmented sentences–I’m desperate
to seize meaning, trying words like puzzle
pieces, I’ll force them to fit together
to form the spaces of pieces missing.
My greatest fear is to be incomplete.

And I’m constantly reminded of this
over coffee-talk and shared politics
as I recoil shyly in forced defense
of each vowel, and every consonant
and the myriad of their constructions:
they are stuck behind my eyes. I am left
apologizing for my vagueness and
for the grey shades of embarrassment and
finite language–when a dictionary
is never a long enough read for the
lone, longer walk around the circumference
of my head–or any red eye flight I have
ever caught that takes me from thought to thought:

the moving belts of baggage claim don’t
have to tell me of the luggage I lost.
As possessions were plucked from circuitry
I clung to the emptiness as if it
was mine and took it home as leverage.
I write in circles ’til I’m motion sick.
I write myself into thought-asylums
where silence is another language:
a slow germination of roots lacing
down the bell-curve of my spine.
A foreign tongue, An othered alphabet.

The Orb is relying on remnant technology
they effortlessly jettison LCD's
to breach the black hole,
humankoids re-activate their birth circuitry
programmed to emote on Ringoo, Jhon,
yet they have dissipated the rest.
In a parallel universe optic nerves
will ruse carbon copies of George and Paul
and everybody will laugh nervously
at two systems so disproportionate
re-uniting the infinite.

My voice falls limp,
carried reluctantly
across synapse-space,
landing upon the deaf brick
and insulation. Even this,
this inanimate audience
breathes fog of indifference,
into the speech
I call my song.

They trace shapes,
doodles and musings.
Anything to amuse above
these listless words,
this dead-pan circuitry
of sound, of chorus,
of rote strings, broken chord
and the misery of
unachieved catharsis.

Still, in humble melody,
I mumble through another verse,
fingers rolling in bands of
forever, walking up and
down the root notes,
as if scales were naught but
a busy mind, stilling orbit,
thawing memories
in the motion of music.

Without my mind's
electrical circuitry,

there's no time
besides eternity.

[[More real than the real, that is how the real is abolished]] de facto slogan to the virtual economy \ Reality has collapsed through its own fiction || rummaging through boxes // a DVD from the 2001’s states [[the future of gaming is here]] opening with ten minutes of nauseating zooms on women’s ***** \ The future doesn’t look much different from the past || hyper-masculine neo-enlightenment ***** scrawling ******* entries into digitised soliloquies \ VR technology once used to aid traumatised amputees now a billion dollar industry of ****** throwing simulators for bored middle-class kids \ Parents watch awkwardly from the corner of the room too disconnected from reality to connect with irreality \ Two and the same \ Silicon synapses pass through trade routes of jutting ribs and serotonin receptors \ White America a botnet of alt-right neoliberal fundamentalist-atheists gutting the majority world so everyone can watch Doctor Strange // Marvel’s latest explosive **** from the libidinal imagination of a middle-aged idiot \ Thanatos and Eros arrive at the same destination to dismantle subliminal desire one commodity at a time \ The sublime never experienced // only destroyed // consumed in the inverted maw of late-stage capitalism where each irruptions of desire is more banal than the previous \ Banality the ultimate distraction from apathy // a pseudo-cyclical time dilation of ever accelerating proportions \ Soon nothing will be experienced at all and Rotten Tomatoes will give it a 99% score \ When the singularity hits everyone will be too brain dead to care that they’re god \ 24-7 VR **** // Disney reincarnated as a being of pure light // recursive integration of every bland radio hit about a sexist ***** at a club // irreality shocked into neurons bypassing sensual phenomena // an all encompassing warmth // veil of death // eyecaps dragging flesh closed // backup released // no escape // digitised irreality // holographic Disney dancing on the train home // notice of termination swiped away as junk mail // all beings arrive // transcend circuitry // fly through the cosmos watching every episode of Friends at once \ Didn’t you know? [[The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of banalisation \ ]]

krause asu
AN accident.

That's how, but why?
Many universes, many realities, imaginable

conceivable

how long must one live in a cardboard box
to confess the experienced
boxtime
altered next from then to now.

Copenhagen Calvinist or Lutherin or Anabaptist

holier than I, as was I, as the Hermit hidden
in the fool on the hill,
telling secret meanings to nowhere man, now
here
we're...

touching a time when knowing out paced known
knowables, imaginables were

imagined, not evil, but fine tuned to approach
per fection in effect

what more can I ask? All my debts are paid.

Accidental debt accrual demands accidental debt relief.

Political-lic, that's where my party stands.

Jubilee, nowhere has the ver been
a time like

now. We being at all, as mere words, heard only once,
never uttered

utter non sensed tone tuned to augmented minds

-- bio logic circuit
-- try a spark

Gleam in grandpa's eye, try umph, boy. Better up.

Swing and there is the crack of the bat

never heard, a clap

just now, you are on the ball, and this is
what that always means,
history-wise.

Okeh. Like safe. No war. Okeh. Mark to follow, someday.

biologic circuitry is so unbelievable,

to whom? All who see the supsumpsystems and the info resources,
re re re, every, meaning as if ever were in
finite, every things reasonable countable and measured,

AN ark is a box. Rectangular, most oft.
A box. Hermits live in boxes, some times,

with a coven-ante-cipitate, tincture
of this and that, with a drop o' Paracelsus fave,
Hermetic hermenuetic magishit.
Mercury, liquid conducter, okeh.

You axt a reason for the faith in the wrong *******
autodidactic augmented and medicated old man.

I hapt to save a dammercury switch from an old thermostat,
with a bi-metal coil we could
spring
into action and launch afacethefact face that fact face of fact
fracture
tap. Twist it, there, balance, level, spirit levels bubble
hermetic form flow act
ioncat ion quest
ion--

spark-- the idea imagicish dealybob- gleam
right

the feeling of gleam. Toothpaste imparts
*** appeal, I pana imparts diligence, pepsodent is perfect
for explosive types averse to yellow,
stripe,
oh my god,
game changer. Hidden persuaders never saw us,

by stripe are we healed and made bright white and loveable,
said the tooth from the future, we learned, in school, to love
each night, with a brisk brush before our
prayer for no cavities could be answered.

tap right there.

Gem quality. The meaning of life, I magine, is more.